


here's my soul to keep

by pettigrace



Series: we're all somewhere in the middle [3]
Category: Arrow (TV 2012), DC's Legends of Tomorrow (TV), The Flash (TV 2014)
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Anxiety Disorder, Asexual Barry, Best Friends, Bisexual Female Character, Break Up, Canon Gay Character, Canon Queer Relationship, Christmas, Companion Piece, First Dates, First Kiss, Flirting, Foster Care, Friendship, Gen, Gender-Neutral Pronouns, Getting Together, Kleptomania, LGBTQ Themes, M/M, Marriage Proposal, Mental Health Issues, Motorcycles, Multi, Non-Binary Chara, Other, Pansexual Character, Pansexual Leonard Snart, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Queer Character, Queer Oliver Queen, Romance, Secret Crush, Star Wars References, Trans Character, Trans Cisco Ramon, Transphobia
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-10-03
Updated: 2018-12-23
Packaged: 2019-01-08 14:01:44
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 13
Words: 21,398
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12255837
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pettigrace/pseuds/pettigrace
Summary: A companion piece filled with missing scenes from my Arrowverse Groupchat AU. It's necessary to read that one first. You'll see in the title which chapter and characters it belongs to.





	1. Part 1 Chapter 11: ColdFlash First Kiss

**Author's Note:**

> Here are the interludes! Updates are whenever they fit to the current chapter of the main fic.  
> You'll see in the chapters' titles what they are about, so you can choose what to read.
> 
> The work's title is from Justin Bieber's "Purpose".

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this belongs to [Chapter 11](http://archiveofourown.org/works/12083541/chapters/27613152) of the main fic.

Bar opens their eyes when someone sits down into the corner next to them. They turn their head, expecting Iris or Cisco - Iris always is their rock in situations like these and Cisco had been so adamant with sitting with them, they figure either of them would probably pry themselves of the conversations they’ve started. To their surprise, though, it’s Snart who’s pushed himself onto the table, pulling one leg closer to his chest while the other dangles off the table, almost touching Bar’s.

Initially, Bar represses a groan. They’ve come to know Snart as a witty and sarcastic person and while they’ve found themself laughing at some of his comments when they’d gone out for dinner, Bar has no idea how they’d like them aimed at themself. 

Snart doesn’t say anything, though, just leans against the wall behind him and looks at Bar. There should be annoyance or a question written in his eyes, but there is nothing - he’s just looking at them as if they were something that’s easily scared (which, okay, they are) and… pretty.

“Would Mick appreciate you dumping him?”, they find themself saying after a few moments, hoping to get Snart to look away. Their own eyes move over to the others - departed into smaller groups and then again not really - to find Mick. He’s sitting on a chair and looking up to Linda who’s standing next to him, shouting something over to Sara.

“Fuck, he hardly ever appreciates anything I do.”

Bar’s lips curl into a smirk. “I wonder why.”

They turn to look at Snart again. There’s no doubt that he hadn’t averted his eyes for a single moment, the position still the very same as before. But he’s returning the smirk now, one corner of his mouth turning up and his eyes getting smaller. It’s a good look, really. “Cocky, hm?”

“Sometimes.”, Bar replies. They nod towards the others. “They’re a mess, aren’t they?”

“We knew that before.”, Snart tells them. Bar can’t quite deny that fact. “Is that the reason why you pulled yourself out of everything?”

It’s easy to talk to Snart, somehow. Bar would have thought it to be different now that they’re around people they know, different from their talk in the library or the dinner they shared, but it isn’t. Snart’s not pressing for answers - generally, if he asks about anything, he seems to really be interested. So Bar finds themself nodding. “I’m not really good with numbers of people. Anxiety, you know? I thought twelve would be manageable but well…”

“They’re a mess.”, Snart echos. 

Bar chuckles. They turn a bit so that they’re properly facing Snart now, making their legs touch slightly.

“We could get out of here,” Snart suggest. His smile has faltered earlier and he sounds serious, but Bar can see a glim in his eyes.

They lean their head against the wall, still looking at Snart. “Later.”, they say, promising.

Snart nods. “I’m a patient man.”

“Are you?”

“Prison does that to you.”, Snart says earnestly.

“You spent half a year in juvie.”, Bar points out. They don’t know what it’s like there, but it’s probably not as bad as a real prison - that one he knows, of course. Prison may not be the same as centuries ago where you weren’t allowed to do anything but sit in your cell, but all those walks in the yard and work you may do don’t really help make the time fly by.

“Hm,” Snarts makes. He leans forward, another smirk on his lips, and stage-whispers, “Maybe I’m not that patient after all, then.”

Bar finds themself humming as they watch him lick his lips. Snart’s still holding eye contact, they notice when they tear their own from his lips. And then, everything happens fast and slowly at the same time.

It’s as if the noises around them get turned down as they move towards each other. The music Oliver’s put on after everyone stated their names, the conversations, everything fades as the two of them move towards each other. It’s the first time that Bar kisses a man, they’re aware of the fact, but it doesn’t make them any more nervous than they already are. They’ve expected Snart’s lips to be rough, but there’s nothing about this kiss that’s not soft - as if both of them were careful; though Bar suspects they’re having different reasons for that. 

There’s no push and pull, they’re moving together as if that’s all they’re made for. And yet, it’s not even a long kiss because Snart pulls away when Bar tries to open his lips with their tongue. 

Bar’s eyes are open wide when they pull away, confused as to whether they’ve understood the whole thing wrong. Seeing Snart’s smile pushes that thought away, though, and the hand he puts on Bar’s knee feels more reassuring than anything. 

Bar can’t rip their eyes of Snart’s face, of his lips, even as he moves. A few seconds later, Snart has turned so that both his legs are dangling off the table as well and they sit properly next to each other. Then, he lifts his hand again, moving it against Bar’s chin and suddenly they’re only inches apart again.

“Would’ve gotten rather uncomfy.”, he says matter-of-factly and Bar nods, their eyes flickering down again. Then, Snart chuckles. “And people call me eager.”

“Shut up,” is all Bar replies before moving forward again.


	2. Part 1 Chapter 22: Snart at the West-Allens'

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> warning for implied child abuse for this one.
> 
> This chapter belongs to [Chapter 22](http://archiveofourown.org/works/12083541/chapters/27876363) of the main fic.

Snart’s drying his hands on his jeans before ringing the doorbell. Usually, he doesn’t get nervous. He’s had enough in his life going on to keep a clear mind, no matter what the world throws at him, and react appropriately. But this is about Lisa and if there’s anyone he cares enough so much that he’d forget about everything, it’s her. (He supposed Mick, too, to a degree, but he knows the guy can look after himself enough that he won’t go full berserker to get him out of whatever he’s gotten into. Lisa, however, he still thinks of like she’s 5, not able to defend herself…)

He gives his best polite smile when the door opens, hoping it seems genuine rather than fake. “Hello, Detective West.”

His newly acquired friends may expect him to be scared of Joe West, but it’s been a long time since he really feared anyone. Cops in particularly usually don’t make him feel anything but anger. But he’s seen through Detective West from the start and since  _ he’s  _ proposed that he and Mick get another chance after their last stunt, he’s come to actually respect the man. And on top of that, he knows first-hand that he can’t be too awful when he’s raised two great kids.

West blinks at him. Then he presses his lips together. “Barry’s not here.”

Snart looks up at him, the slight height difference they have increased because he’s stepped down the one step after ringing. He’s learnt that sometimes, making yourself seem smaller (and thus weaker) is better for the result. “I know. Actually, I... I wanted to talk to you, sir.”

“To me?”, West repeats, huffing. 

“In fact, I’ve come to ask a favour.”, Snart says sheepishly - if faked or not, he can’t tell himself. “Don’t worry, it’s not about Barry.”

That seems to satisfy him somewhat. The older man raises an eyebrow but steps back, opening the door a bit more. Understanding the invitation, Snart steps up and nods at him curtly before stepping inside.

The detective leads him into the dining room, the same way Iris has done the first time that he’d showed up here, and a small part of his brain wants to smile at that resemblance. Snart leans against the table, his eyes still fixed on West. It’s the same the other way around.

“You want anything to drink?”, West prompts. 

Snart hesitates. He usually knows how to react to that question. Accept the rich woman’s invitation for a drink, make her chatty so that you can steal the expensive ring off her finger. But not only is he not here to steal, but to  _ beg _ for something. Plus, West would guess that’s his way of getting close to people.

Then again, he’s still the foster dad of the person Snart’s dating, so it could also be a test on his manners. Being earnest is harder than he’d thought.

“Um, a water would be great.”

West nods and - much to Snart’s surprise - leaves the room. He’d have expected to be ordered to go with at least, so that he wouldn’t be able to get his hands on anything. But maybe he’s not as much on the bottom of the list as he’d thought.

“Sit down.”, West says when he comes back, putting a glass down on the table and choosing the chair at the head of it for himself. His voice isn’t exactly friendly, but it’s warmer than the last time they’ve spoken.

Snart follows suit and sinks down on the one that’s been picked for him - right next to the detective. He can’t really stop himself from gulping, as much as he’d hate to admit it.

“I’m not going to make smalltalk.”, West announces. Snart’s quite alright with that, seeing how he wouldn’t even know what they could talk about (‘Oh yes, really, sir. Barry’s got a great mouth, you know?’). “What’s that favour?”

“My sister turns 18 next week, meaning she’ll get to leave her foster family--”, he looks down shortly, figuring that West might not understand that not every foster family has a bond similar to his own, “I’d like to visit her. Get her back home.”

There’s something on West’s face that changes. Only slightly so, but his features soften and he sighs. “You can’t leave the city.”

“I’m not planning a heist.”, Snart says honestly. “I’ll take the train to Coast City, you can keep an eye on me via surveillance.”

“You have rules to follow. You can already be happy you’re not back to prison.”

“I know. I am.”, he nods. “Look, you know our situation--”

“Snart, this is not up to me--”

“I don’t want pity.”, he states. “Just a little trust.”

They keep holding each other’s glances, neither of them willing to back down. From what he’s gathered, Snart’s sure that the detective is actually thinking about it. He’s a family guy through and through and he should have checked on his background. Hell, West may know more about Lewis Snart than he does himself.

West opens his mouth, probably to deny his request. He may have good connections with the captain, Bar has told him (it has explained how they actually went through with Joe’s suggestion that he and Mick go to college), but there’s ends to all things. And West probably is still pissed about him dating Bar.

Before he gets out a single word, though, the front door opens. There’s a sound of keys jingling and both of them move back. Snart hadn’t even realized they’d both leaned forward during their talk. 

“Dad, you home?”

Somehow, Snart hadn’t expected either of West’s kids to come home. He knows that Bar’s stuck at the lab, they've said so when they parted way earlier, and that Wally - the youngest - never comes home before 4pm. And last he’d seen, Iris had been wrapped up (probably literally) in Eddie. But apparently, she hadn’t been so determined to stay there the whole day.

West clears his throat before calling back, “Yeah, baby, I’m in the dining room!” His eyes dart from Snart to the direction of the hall.

Before he knows it, Snart’s on the verge of a grin, so he grabs his glass, trying to hide it. Iris starts talking before she enters the room, something about someone called Fred, but as soon as she comes around the corner and her eyes fall on him, she stops.

At her surprised face, Snart really can’t help but chuckle. “Hello,” he says cheerfully and raises his glass.

“Iris, you know Leonard Snart?”, the detective says in a way of introduction.

Iris blinks, still shocked. “Uh, yeah, we’ve met a few times since Bar and him--” So close to being a lie and yet so far; they really have only met in person after  _ Bar and him _ .

“Great.”, West nods. “He’ll stay for dinner tonight.”

At that point, Snart realizes, he might be truly and utterly fucked.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Snart still calls Bar "Barry" in this one because he doesn't know whether they're out to Joe yet in regards of gender.


	3. Part 1 Chapter 27: Cisco/Ronnie Break-Up

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is set during [Chapter 17](http://archiveofourown.org/works/12083541/chapters/27750462) of the main fic, but I suggest you read it after [Chapter 27](http://archiveofourown.org/works/12083541/chapters/27998151) only. Spoilers, you know?

Ronnie should have known something is wrong. Right from the start of their conversation, Cisco had sounded way too cheerful - as if he’d done it on purpose. Xe had figured that maybe that’s been exactly it: that he’s tried to make his family meeting sound better than it is. 

But then again, xe should have realized it’s something different, because Cisco’s never downplayed the discomfort he’s had, no matter the situation. Xe should have realized because xe knows him. Xe knows that his favourite character of all time is Billy Kaplan, despite the guy’s fucked up soul-wandering upbringing - simply because “he’s a cool Jewish wizard guy with a shape-shifting boyfriend, it’s the fucking dream, Ronnie!” Xe knows that Cisco needs something to chew at all times or else he’d get a headache; the cause of the big candy storage in his bag and the reason for him grinding his teeth at night. 

So technically, it shouldn’t be a surprise when Cisco says, “You know, I’ve been thinking. … About us.”

The thing is: Ronnie knows Cisco’s not good with sharing. Not out of selfish reasons, but because his parents have always favoured his brother Dante. Cisco’s had to savour everything he’s gotten to himself - which has developed into a habit he can’t just put down.

“No good conversation ever starts like that.”, Ronnie tells him, coughing to get rid off the feeling clocking xyr throat. 

Xe should have known right from the start that it would end like this. The way Cisco would go silent when xe and Caitlin had a moment. The fact that Cisco insisted on keeping his own flat rather than for them all to go looking for a bigger one together. In the end, they’d agreed it’d work the best: Ronnie and Caitlin each had their own room to retreat to in their flat and Cisco had his to go to when he needed silence; on most days they were at the bigger flat together so it didn’t matter.

But actually, it has mattered and xe should have realized. It should have been obvious that in the end, Cisco wasn’t made for a poly relationship. Maybe he hadn’t even understood it himself, fully indulged in the feelings he had for Ronnie and the strong friendship he’d developed with Caitlin.

But now he has gotten to the point. But even more so, Ronnie notices, because Cisco says, “I loved you so much -- I still do, I do,” and there’s a slight satisfaction spreading across Ronnie’s chest when xe realize he’s about to cry, too (the next moment xe feel disgusted by that), “but… it’s just not enough.”

And despite all, Ronnie knows Cisco. Xe knows there’s something underlying in the words and right now, xe doesn’t care if it’s the right moment.

“You like someone else, don’t you?” He hesitates, and that would be enough of an answer for Ronnie, but as xe feels the burn in xyr eyes, xe asks again, “Who is it?”

There’s a sniff on the other end of the line and Ronnie can see Cisco’s lips tremble in front of xyr inner eye. “I didn’t want to do it like this, I meant to talk to you in person, be brave… But then I realized I wouldn’t go through with it because I hadn’t been able to do it before--”

“‘Sco--”

“See, it’s been on my mind for longer, it’s not because I now--”

“Cisco, just tell me if I know him.”, Ronnie says and closes xyr eyes, taking in a deep breath.

“Yeah, you do.”, he says. A deep breath and then, “It’s… Hartley.”

“Hartley?”, Ronnie repeats, suddenly laughing. “Cisco, you  _ hate _ him.”

“I… might not. Not any more.”, Cisco says slowly. Ronnie realizes, it’s fucked up. Xe shouldn’t be asking this, xe should be more angry that he’d start to like someone else, but it’s almost ridiculous. “He was… kind of sweet when he stayed at my place. I don’t know--”

“‘Sco,” Ronnie says again and because xe still cares about him, so so much, xe tells him, “You can’t just judge him for what he did during a hard time. He might still be an asshole to y--”

“You know, I know that. I know he hates me and that I shouldn’t like him, but I do. And I thought it--”, this time Cisco is the one to cough, “it would be fairer if I was honest with you. I-- like I said, it’s not just because of… I haven’t been completely happy in a few months.”

“You should have  _ told _ me, Cisco. We could have fixed this.”, Ronnie insists, shaking xyr head. Xe knows that no, they couldn’t have, because in the end, Cisco doesn’t even share his Xena boxset.

“We couldn’t have. I’m sorry.”

And with that, Ronnie feels like xyr heart literally is parting into million sharp pieces.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is in no means meant as contra poly relationships - I wouldn't include one if I were against them! But well, look at Ronnie's thoughts - everyone in the relationship needs to be okay with it, and Cisco wasn't, not really.


	4. Part 1 Chapter 29: Hartmon

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This belongs to [Chapter 29](http://archiveofourown.org/works/12083541/chapters/28047255) of the main fic!
> 
> Transphobia warning for this one.

Cisco doesn’t really remember the first time he’s met Hartley. Hell, he doubts he’s even ever noticed the guy’s existence before their chemistry teacher practically made them enemies. But when Stein had first pointed out there are two students in the class who almost always got perfect scores, Cisco has first noticed the lanky nerd in first row. 

Thirteen year old Hartley didn’t look so different from his six-years-older counterpart. With the time, he’s grown into his limbs, his face got more defined and he got a better haircut (Cisco can admit that, there’s only improvement when you start with a bowl cut). But then again, he still wears his huge glasses and ridiculously plain outfits. He’s still as committed to his studies, and, of course, to driving Cisco up a wall.

That’s the only explanation as to why he’s standing in front of his door again, after the messed-up confession Cisco had made.

“Cisco, come on, open up!”, Hartley calls, knocking against the door. “I’ll fucking stay here, I swear!”

Even though he won't hear it, Cisco can't help but snort at that empty threat. He knows that there's nothing more important to Hartley than his education and since their physics class with Wells (undoubtedly Hartley’s favourite) takes place tomorrow, there's a limit to him staying here. He, Cisco, would stay at home without any regrets, really.

Of course, he can't avoid Hartley forever - but he thinks he deserves more than two days before the infamous “no, we’re better as friends”-speech (which is bullshit, because they've never been friends to begin with). There's nothing else he could possibly want to say, is there? Maybe that the others annoy him about this whole thing and Cisco needs to shut them up. 

Cisco hears a huff and then a movement against the door. Hartley’s probably turned to lean against it, actually thinking he'd last longer than 10 minutes in waiting for him to open the door.

Cisco decides that it's probably best to pretend like there's nobody outside. He still has to finish his essay anyway. And for that he's gonna blast his music, sue him.

“You do know that horrible music can't scare me away, right?”, Hartley all but yells over the sound of Taylor Swift, “I could just take out my aids.”

Cisco huffs, stopping himself from replying that Hartley wouldn't be able to hear whether he responds then. Yeah, it's ironic. 

But really, what's he supposed to do? It's not like he's chosen to get a freaking crush on a guy who's hated him for years. Or to let the guy know about that when they'd noticed that  _ oh _ , that tension between them  _ can _ lead to things other than arguments.

And most of all, he really hasn't chosen to be not only turned down by him, but to have him rush from the apartment, too.

When did he even stop hating Hartley? Sure, he’s noticed that his own replies lacked venom after they graduated High School, but he figured it’s just been growing up on his part - that feud really did get ridiculous; it’s just been about grades, in the end. Instead, he’s also started not to take Hartley’s jabs too seriously but softly rolled his eyes at them. He doubts he’s already had feelings for the other back then, otherwise he wouldn’t have started dating Ronnie. He may have no problem with his boyfriend having multiple partners, but that’s nothing for him. No, Cisco is more of a all-or-nothing kind of guy, so he really can’t have felt anything other than a lowkey dislike for Hartley during their first year of college.

It’s come slightly and slowly, sneaking up on him until he finally realized that talking to Hartley can’t be all that bad. That the guy looks kind of cute in his glasses, and not just ridiculous. That, and that’s something Cisco has noticed when Hartley spent the night at his place after his parents disowned him, their bodies don’t even feel awkward curled around another. (It’s also the time he learnt that Hartley seems to absorb heat in any way.)

Breaking up with Ronnie is something he’s felt in his bones for months before that, but only really realized when,  _ yes _ , he fucking fell for Hartley Rathaway. And when he got around to tell him that, the guy in question bolted from his apartment. Cisco’s hoped he wouldn’t have to face him for at least a week, and that he wouldn’t have to talk for him for more than a month. Because he’s actually quite good at avoiding people when he wants to.

But now that Hartley’s back, it's not as easy to ignore him. Cisco's mind moves from the words on the page in front of him to the door, wondering what Hartley is doing. It also doesn't help that the guy won't shut up, pleading again and again that Cisco should open up.

Though he only  _ really _ listens when there is another voice, sounding like it's from farther away so Cisco turns down his music a little.

“Hartley,” Axel purrs, a drawl in his voice that's unfamiliar to Cisco. He only knows him annoyed or downright mean. “What a surprise.”

“Fuck off, Axel. I'm not here for you.” Hartley’s reply is immediate. 

“Sleeping with neighbours now?”

With all their arguments, Cisco's never heard Hartley sound that cold. “What's it to you?”

“Not much, just thought you were gay.”

“Well, yeah, you're not mistaken.”

Cisco closes his eyes, fully aware of what's to come. He shouldn't even be surprised with how much of an asshole Axel is, but he feels a stab in his chest nonetheless.

“Well, it’s just that Ramon’s--”

Apparently Hartley’s sensing what's to come, too, because the next thing Cisco hears must be a fist fight. Either that or they've decided to make out over the fact they both hate him. There's thuds against the walls and groans.

After a few moments that have Cisco frozen (what would he see if he went to look?) there's the sound of a door slamming and then, after more seconds that Cisco keeps listening, he hears Hartley groaning once more.

“Fucking son of a bitch!”

At that, Cisco finally opens the door. He finds Hartley leaning against the wall next to it, his hair ruffled, glasses askew and a hand clutching his stomach. He breathing heavily but the look he gives Axel's door is full of venom. 

“You’re a fucking idiot.”, Cisco states and steps closer to him. “How do you think you can win a fight?”

“He's a transphobic piece of shit.”, Hartley replies as if that answers everything. He pushes himself off the wall, hand still holding onto his stomach.

Cisco grabs his other wrist. “Come on, I'll give you something to cool it.” 

The response is a shake of his head, but he doesn't fight Cisco's pull. “I slept with a transphobic ass.”

Cisco lets go off him again when they're in the kitchen. As he rummages through the fridge, he says, “You didn't know. Hell,  _ I _ didn't know. Thought he just didn't like me as a person and that's it…”

Hartley accepts the bag of peas and holds it against his split lip, flinching at the feel. Cisco steps back again. He may not want Hartley to be in pain because of him, but he also doesn’t feel like even being in the same room as him. Hartley doesn’t seem to notice, though, because he starts, “Shit, Cisco, you can't stay here. He's dangerous!”

“Well, what am I supposed to do?”, Cisco laughs. “Go and live in the same house as you?”

“Cisco…” Hartley puts the bag down again.

“That’s not happening.”, Cisco continues. “You may think it's cool and all, but it's-- no, not for me--”

“Cisco.”, Hartley says again and suddenly they're only inches apart. “What do you think why I'm here?”

“So that I tell the others to leave you alone?”, he prompts.

“Fucking unbelievable.”, Hartley chuckles. Slowly he lifts his hand, as if Cisco were a deer that's easily frightened, and puts it on the back of his head. “But that's you, I guess.”

There’s a small smile on his face, making the split in his lip crack open further, but it doesn’t bleed. So close, Cisco can also see that his cheekbone is red, too, probably already about to bruise, and he wants to tell him to cool that one, too. But Hartley’s already let go of the bag of peas, instead holding on to him and Cisco is confused--

The next moment their mouths crush together. Lips against lips, teeth against teeth, chin against chin. Hartley’s pulling him closer and closer until Cisco's on his tiptoes when he pulls away.

“I-- what?”, he breathes. “You don't need to--”

“I  _ want _ to.”

“But when we-- when I--”

“I was stupid.”, Hartley says, breathing as heavily as him. He lets go off the back of Cisco’s head, instead moving his hand so that he cups his cheek, stroking his thumb over it.

“Those words out of your mouth.”, Cisco can't help but say. It’s ridiculous, that he’s standing here with his hands on Hartley’s hips, wanting to press against him again when only moments ago he’s wished the guy would disappear. “I feel like we need to talk.”

Hartley blinks. “Later? There's, uh, something else I'd rather do right now.”

Cisco hesitates. They've been there before, even further, and it's not ended well the last time. But then, there's never been the promise of a conversation before. 

So, in response, he pulls Hartley down again. 

“Bedroom?” A mumble against his lips. 

Cisco nods, pushing against him so that they  _ move _ , and Hartley pulls at him, his hands suddenly everywhere - his shoulders, his hips, his arms, his hands -, and kissing him as if any separation may hurt.

The next moment, Cisco's pushed him onto the bed. Their lips are never parting, not even when he climbs on top of Hartley. 

But then he  _ feels _ something and sits up, straddling Hartley’s hips. “Hm, I'm having a déjà vu to the first time this happened, you too?”

Hartley groans at the pressure. “Hnng, that wasn't--”, he starts but cuts himself off by leaning up and kissing Cisco again.

“No, wait--”, Cisco mumbles, “I want to hear that. You had a boner for me before?” He remembers clearly how that's happened when they had their pillow fight, the start of this all, and how embarrassed and shocked Hartley had been. There's no way--

“Hm, yeah.”

“Since when?”

Hartley groans - this time in annoyance - and lets his head fall back onto the mattress. 

“Hartley.” Cisco shifts his weight.

“Oh,  _ fuck-- _ ”, he moans. “Freshman year, okay?”

“Two years?”

A pause. Then, “High School.”

“ _ What the fuck _ ?”, Cisco shrieks, “I didn't even look like a boy yet--”

“You were boy enough, trust me.”, Hartley says seriously. “The first.”

“Holy  _ shit _ . Why didn't you say anything?”

“My guess is 'repressed feelings’ but maybe we should have Iris psychoanalyse me?”, Hartley offers dryly. “Didn't we agree to talk later?”

“You can't just drop such news and--”

“Cisco, my dick is pressed against your ass, I'd rather do something about it.”

Cisco laughs. “Okay, fair.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As I said, sorry for doing this to Axel.


	5. Part 1 Chapter 31: Oliver's press conference

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This belongs to [Chapter 31](https://archiveofourown.org/works/12083541/chapters/28091841) of the main fic!
> 
> homophobia warning, you know the drill

Tommy’s life hasn’t been normal since his mother died - well, if it’s been normal before, he wouldn’t dare to judge. After all, he’s the son of a cold billionaire who likes to disappear for months at a time. Really, the simplest (which, considering how crazy they’d been about Laurel at a point, says a lot) and most childish thing he’s had in his life was his friendship with Oliver. Still is, to an extent, but ever since the guy came up with this groupchat of his, it’s gotten really crazy. 

Not that he wouldn’t support Oliver no matter what he did - hell, he loves the guy more than anyone - but it’s gotten rather annoying when he started to have his phone in his hands at all times (even more so than Felicity, who is the real tech freak here). And then he’d given shelter to the Rathaway kid who wouldn’t shut up about being horny and generally is quite … exhausting, to put it mildly. And ever since then, Tommy hasn’t had a calm day at home. He’s gotten woken up by visitors for the past weeks almost every day, which is kinda awful considering he works at night. 

It’s not that he hates Oliver’s new friends. Hartley is quite okay, actually, and while they bring chaos with themselves, so are the others. Tommy finds himself smirking along to their jokes more often than he’d like to admit.

And then, of course, they’ve undoubtedly helped Oliver to come to terms with himself. If he’d ever actually admitted being attracted to men if he hadn’t spent so much time surrounded with people who are, Tommy doesn’t know, but he’s glad for that. It’s no secret Oliver had been curious about the same sex - hell, they’ve both been (hence that one time they’d had together) but it’s stayed the same for Oliver, he’d noticed. 

Now that he’s been outed on local TV, however, Tommy wonders if it’s been that a great idea. He doesn’t think that Moira would really approve of it, especially since she’s been so eager to have a press conference about this as soon as possible, but he knows that Oliver is not a coward. Now that there’s already focus on it, he won’t deny it. And judging by the fact that he’s insisted on taking Hartley with him (along Dig and Laurel, who is pretty much his lawyer nowadays anyway), Tommy’d guess he’s actually planning something. 

Turning on the TV’s browser, he notices that in all the rush Oliver’s left his phone on the table. A part of him wonders if it’s an violation of privacy, but then again he pretty much knows about everything that happens in that chat already anyways (and as it seems, they do in return, too). So he picks it up and tells them to put on Queen Consolidated’s website - even if he doesn’t know about it, Oliver’d probably appreciate his friends watching it.

Tommy actually chats a bit with them - there’s still time till the conference starts - and finds himself chuckling more often than he’d like to admit. They seem like a random bunch of people (he’s never met all of them at the same time and judging by the headache he already got when five of them were in the same place, he’s quite thankful for that) who are unable to stay serious, but maybe it’s for the better sometimes. They remind him of what he and Oliver have been like as teenagers, ruthless and wild until life got in the way - noticing Thea’s addiction had taken a toll on all of them, and while she’s gotten better, and then they’ve all gotten better, Oliver’s lost lots of his old self. If they help him open up more again, Tommy’ll be more than happy to accept the chaos even into his own life.

Seeing Moira on screen gives him a funny feeling in his stomach - something he’s gotten used to lately. It’s still weird to think that she’s been the one his father had eventually turned to after his mother’s death, and that she’s the mum of his actual sister. But she’s also the mum of the most important person in his life, of his brother in all  _ but _ blood, and she’s also the one who he’d gone to after nightmares when he spent month after month at the Queens’. He should have positive feelings for her, lots of them, but all the secrets have changed it somewhat. 

And seeing her all serious about her son’s coming-out is another thing he’s not so sure about.

“... concerning my son Oliver. Naturally, it is not my place to speak about this. I hope you will all patiently hear him out.”, Moira finishes her introduction and extends an arm towards the side of the stage, indicating for Oliver to come up. “Go ahead, darling.”

Oliver looks cheerful as ever when he appears behind the microphones. Of course, he’s been trained for that since he was a child (they’ve all been - him, Tommy and Thea) because that’s what you’re requested to be skilled at when your parents own a big company. Oliver’s smiling into the cameras, nodding at certain journalists, before finally setting his eyes on QC’s own. 

Tommy ignores the chat for the time being (a look at the phone tells him that Oliver in a suit seems to push everyone’s buttons, apparently) and focuses on his best friend’s words instead. 

“Thank you all for coming.”, Oliver starts, still smiling. “As my mother has said, today’s conference focuses on certain rumours that have come up concerning my personal life. Whoever has brought them on,” Tommy finds himself frowning at Oliver’s unwillingness to throw that Adrian guy under the bus, “probably has come up with them because I’ve been engaging in the recently-founded LGBT club of the CCC.

“In fact, I’ve actually pushed for it to exist. The lack of such a support system at one of the State’s biggest colleges has been shocking.”

There’s a few camera flashes going off, but nothing more. After all, the journalists are only present to get an answer about Oliver himself, not the circumstances of why the news even came to be. The groupchat agrees with Oliver’s words, of course, and Linda seems impressed at how eloquent Oliver can be. Tommy types out a short answer agreeing with her only in teasing - he, of course, knows about it already.

“Me in particular it’s concerned because I’ve felt myself drawn to the community for quite a while already.”

At that, the lights finally begin to go crazy. Moira, who’s still standing on the stage, just more in the background, actually looks like a fish with the way she gapes and Tommy can’t help but laugh at that. He doesn’t think that she’d have such a firm reaction as Hartley’s parents - she’s not homophobic, per se, but it’s another thing if your own son likes men.

Oliver acts like he doesn’t notice anyone’s reactions but continues. “However, what those rumours say about me is wrong. While it is true that I came to the realization that I like both men and women, I do not identify as bisexual. In fact, there’s a broad range of terms that refer to the attraction to multiple genders, but none of them work for me. For now I’m just going with ‘queer’.” 

Tommy knows Oliver, probably better than himself, so he doesn’t miss the small sigh he leaves out once those words are out. It’s not the first time that Oliver’s come out - years ago to him with the  _ possibility _ of liking men, then again once he’s actually come to terms with it, and of course to the groupchat - but it’s the biggest one. Not many people actually watch the company’s livestreams, and certainly not about personal things, but there’s no doubt this will be all over the news tomorrow. It’s not something Oliver will be ashamed of, of course, not like the things he’s found himself confronted with in the past, but still it’s… huge. He must have dreaded doing this and now that it’s finally out, Oliver looks like a weight’s fallen off his shoulder.

The next moment, he frowns, though, and before Tommy can even start feeling concerned, Oliver adds, “That being sad, I’m still very much in love with my girlfriend.”

That earns him quite a few laughters from the journalists. Tommy doesn’t know if it’s just Oliver making sure there won’t be new rumours or if it’s him reassuring Felicity, but it’s kind of cute. 

There’s some more cameras going off, and Tommy can see people pushing forward their microphones, but Oliver ignores them in favour of talking again. “Now that we’re past that, however, I’d like to shift the conversation a little. First, let me introduce you to a friend of mine.”

He looks to the side, saying something to someone off-screen, and Tommy feels the phone go off with more and more messages. He knows that Hartley is with Oliver, of course, and he’d thought the others knew about that, too, but when he appears on the stage, they’re all quite confused. Tommy tells them that he doesn’t know what this is about either.

Oliver pushes Hartley to the front rather than using the microphone himself again and with the way he holds himself, Tommy remembers that the guy must have had quite a similar upbringing than them. He looks kind of ridiculous next to Oliver, not just because he’s so much more petite, but because he’s wearing an old shirt that’s been missing from Tommy’s wardrobe for quite a while now. It’s a little too big on him, but still the best he could do, considering Dig and Oliver both are bigger than him. 

Hartley nods at the journalists similarly to the way Oliver had done before, his shoulders back and a serious expression on his face. He starts smirking slightly once he talks, though. “I’m Hartley, a few of you will know me as the son of Rachel and Osgood Rathaway -- well, I’d be if they hadn’t disowned me just a few weeks ago. Simply for being gay.”

The reactions of the reporters are pretty much the same as Tommy’s own. There’s an uproar in their movements, camera’s flashing again and microphones pushing forward. Oliver’s phone is buzzing more than before and Tommy realizes that his friends know, despite not being quite of their world, what a big thing this is. Because it’s one thing to introduce yourself as the gay son of well-known people. It’s another to say they don’t approve of you. It’s a big ‘fuck you’ sent into their direction, something that will cause lots of trouble. It explains Hartley’s smirk.

And shit, if that isn’t clever. 

“See, I’ve never made a secret of my sexuality. That is, as far as my parents wouldn’t know.”, Hartley continues. “It didn’t come as quite a surprise that they did what they did as soon as I was outed; they’ve always been rather open about their beliefs. And yet, it’s been for the better that only a few weeks before that I’ve made friends who’d been willing to take me in.

“Basical strangers who treated me better than my family - thanks to the club Oliver has founded.”

He looks back at Oliver, who steps forward and puts a hand on his shoulder. They nod at each other before Hartley steps to the side, making the table free for Oliver to continue whatever he wanted to say.

“Hartley’s just an example of what can happen to people in a homophobic environment -- a lot of times, there’s actual physical abuse they must fear, among other serious difficulties. To help them get out of those, I’m building a project to offer emotional and financial support. Within the next week, helplines will be erected.”, Oliver announces. “Further information will be put online soon. I really do hope we can help those in the needs of it.”

There’s people surging forward again, meaning to ask questions, but Oliver shakes his head. “Thank you for your time.”, he says and then grabs a hold of Hartley’s arm, making their way off the stage. 

Tommy keeps staring at the screen even after the stream ended, only looking at the phone in his hands a few times to see what the others think. He’s got no idea when Oliver thought of all this but  _ damn _ , if that isn’t a thing to be proud of. It feels like they’re really growing up - and actually fitting into the chaotic life they’ve got going on.


	6. Part 1 Chapter 14: Linda/Mick bitching

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Multiple people have wanted to see Linda and Mick's bitching about Snart and... well, I tried. Turns out Mick loves his buddy too much to be really an asshole. (Or maybe the author loves Snart too much. It's definitely that. And the fact that I can't have nasty thoughts.)
> 
> This is set during [Chapter 14](http://archiveofourown.org/works/12083541/chapters/27685491).

Linda guesses that Mick is quite more talkative than he lets on. The few times that he actually contributes to the group chat, he usually replies to someone else. And usually those replies are of a shorter nature. In real life, he seems to keep to himself, too, but apparently it’s something different when he has the option of bitching about Snart. In a group, however, (proven by the times that their club has met up) Mick is like a background figure who just grunts and mumbles at the others’ words, letting things happen to him as if he’d been forced to appear. 

But then again, he’s quite a source of comical gold - those casual, off-hand comments really season a conversation, so that’s why Linda finds herself sitting in front of Jitters with two coffees to go in her hands and waiting for the big guy.

It doesn’t take long until he shows up, a paper bag from Big Belly Burgers in his hand, and flops down next to her. “Want one? Just don’t take the vegs,” he says in between bites of his own burger, holding up the bag.

Linda grins and reaches for it. There’s quite a collection of things in there - fries, several burgers and seemingly a bit of everything else that the restaurant has to offer. Her initial confusion subsides, though, considering that Mick  _ really _ is a big guy who probably needs as many calories.

Still, while grabbing a burger herself, she comments, “Snart got you starving or what?”

Mick grunts. “You got no idea. That’s the first meat I got in  _ days _ .”

“Gotta fill up your guys’ fridge, then?”, she answers dryly before biting into her own burger. “How do you even pay for everything?”

“State.”, Mick says. He reaches for the untouched coffee cup and raises it in thanks. “Not much, of course, but it’s fine. Though I suppose we gotta look for jobs soon.”

“D’you mean proper jobs or heists?”, Linda raises her brows.

Mick smirks. “Whatcha think?”

Linda rolls her eyes, even though she really doesn’t know  _ what _ to think. She doesn’t think that the small thefts they have done makes them bad guys - despite their hard exterior, both Mick and Snart seem nice enough, just a little fucked up at most. She supposes that if Snart really likes Bar (which he better does for his own sake) he wouldn’t fall back into old habits. Joe would probably cut off his balls if he did.

Of course, what goes for Snart doesn’t necessarily go for Mick, and while the former seems to be the head of their operations, Linda doesn’t doubt that Mick could do jobs on his own. But still, if he’s got the option to do otherwise…

“Y’know, love the guy, really, but  _ hell _ , having him ‘round all the time’s fucking annoying.”, Mick mumbles. “Coulda think I was Lisa.”

“Who’s Lisa?”

“His sister.”, he frowns. “She’s, like, everything to Lenny, so you better watch what you say about siblings around him.”

“Gotcha.”

They’re silent for a few minutes while they eat their burgers, takings sips of their coffees every now and then.

“Is living with him really that awful?”, Linda wants to know at one point. She can only imagine how annoying it could get to share that a small living space with someone else - it’s bound to get suffocating, no matter how much you like them. And, she supposes, it must remind them of their time in prison.

“Nah,” Mick says. “Gets a bit much, ‘course, but during the day we can leave anyways.” He reaches down and pulls up the leg of his jeans a bit, revealing an ankle monitor. “Just not the city.”

“That doesn’t sound too bad.”, Linda agrees. She doesn’t know for how long those restrictions are active and, somehow, she doesn’t really feel like it’s her place to ask. At least not right now. Maybe Mick won’t be allowed to do what he wants for  _ years _ and while he seems pretty chill right now, being reminded of that could piss him off. She wouldn’t want to upset him - not just because she supposes Mick could get really scary but because they’re friends, too, aren’t they?

“You’ve known Iris before the chat, right?”, Mick says, seemingly out of nowhere. He continues when she nods. “And the detective?”

“Knew him first, actually. I’ve been over at the station a few times to practice interviews.”, Linda shrugs. “Why?”

“Just cause. Some shitty cops out there.”, he says thoughtfully. For some reason, Linda feels like he has a specific one in mind.

“Yeah. Don’t gotta tell me, I watch the news.”, she says. “Joe’s alright, though. And as long as Snart doesn’t pull Bar into any shit…”

“Y’know,” Mick says, “Few weeks ago I would have said he’s gonna do it just outta spite, but y’all really made him turn over a new leaf. Not entirely, ‘course, guy’s still a bastard, but a bit.”

Linda finds herself grinning. There’s fondness in Mick’s voice as he says that, and not only directed at Snart, so she asks, “What about you? Feel like a part of our happy family, too?”

“Suppose it's not bad knowing people who won't stab you if you turned your back the wrong way.”, Mick replies with a shrug.

Linda raises an eyebrow. “I thought your jobs weren’t  _ that _ \--”, she trails off, searching for a fitting word. She has no doubt that either of them would back down from beating up people, but it’s not like they got involved with the mafia, is it?

“Nah,” Mick agrees. “Didn’t kill anyone.”, he says and Linda kind of hopes she’s just imagining the missing ‘yet’. “But well… You know how I met Len?”

“Juvie, right?”, she guesses. Snart’d said so and she’s thought they’ve been cellmates or something. 

Mick nods. “Idiot nearly got himself killed.”, he tells. “See, Len’s never learnt to shut up the big mouth of his - well, except… Anyway, saw that scrawny kid pick a fight he’d never have won. Guy had a shiv.”

“What’s that?”, Linda wants to know. It may be the journalist in her, but she finds herself actually curious about where this story is going. So Mick had saved Snart’s life? It makes sense, of course, because she couldn’t imagine any other way how they could’ve started hanging out.

“Small knife, basically. So yeah, stabbing’s definitely a thing.” He sounds casual as he says that and Linda thinks that’s not an act - it really  _ is  _ normal for him. “Though not with you wankers, maybe.”

Linda shrugs. “Eddie’s trained to be a cop, Iris and Bar know at least some moves and I bet my ass Sara could  _ actually _ cut off special bodyparts.”

“Not a quiet second, huh?”, Mick grins. “Wouldn’t have guessed y’all to be this fucked up.”

“We try.”, Linda smiles along. And exactly that may be proof of just how fucked it is - sitting there with a criminal who has no problem with hurting people badly, as it appears, and laughing about their friends. 


	7. Part 1 Chapter 39: Oliver's Christmas Eve (ft. Tommy)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This belongs into [Chapter 39](http://archiveofourown.org/works/12083541/chapters/29419512) of the main fic.

“I do hope that’s Sara texting you her endless thanks about us flying in her girlfriend.”, Tommy says dryly, setting his empty glass down on the table. “Otherwise I wouldn’t see why you’re on your phone when you’re having a perfectly fine drinking night with your best friend.”

Oliver frowns and looks at the digital clock on the screen. “If we’re lucky, Dig’s just arrived at the airport, so she doesn’t even  _ know _ yet.”

Tommy sighs and holds out his hand. “Well, then give me your phone.”

They’re sitting on the couch in Oliver’s old room, both taking a corner of it for themselves and having their legs meet in front of the middle. It’s comfortable, especially with the fireplace warming them from the outside and the whiskey doing the work on the inside, and it’s probably his favourite way of spending Christmas Eve. It’s become a tradition for them to do it like this since… pretty much since ever. Tommy’s dad would rather leave him at the Queens’ for the holidays after his wife’s death and it’s quickly become a habit for the two of them to just spend it lying around and talking about everything and nothing. With the years they’d added alcohol, then drugs, too. Now they’re back on only the alcohol, luckily, and even that’s become less. God, they’re really getting old. 

Oliver knows that Tommy has mixed feelings about the groupchat. Mostly, he’s annoyed that it takes up so much time of Oliver’s, as far as he knows. And, he supposes, Eddie’s endless teasing and flirting might be a dealbreaker as well. Plus, he’s right. It’s  _ their _ night. 

“Okay, chill, I’m gonna put it away.”, Oliver says, locking the screen.

Even though he moves to shove it away, Tommy keeps holding out his hand. “Give.”

Oliver sighs. He knows that Tommy will probably tackle him if he doesn’t follow, so he hands it to him. He watches how Tommy punches in the code (good, Thea’s birthday really isn’t the most secure one) and opens the groupchat again just to type out a quick message without even looking if there’s any serious conversations going on. 

“Hey!”, Oliver makes when he blindly throws it behind himself, thankfully hitting the bed, “That’s a new one!”

“Yeah, and we’re rich. Chill.”, Tommy shrugs. He leans back again and turns a little, placing his boots on Oliver’s lap despite the ‘oof’ he lets out at that. “I feel like you’re taking this chat too seriously.”

“Well, those  _ are _ real people.”, Oliver tells him sternly. “And, you know, it’s-- it’s really important to me.”

It’s not that he’s been completely unhappy with his life, not in the slightest, before he came up with the idea of co-founding the club with Sara, but… He had a hard time figuring out himself. Spending so much time with people who either knew their exact place or were wondering about themselves, just like him - it’s really helped. He’s finally found something to feel comfortable in, enough courage and motivation to even announce it publicly and  _ work _ for. 

“I know.”, Tommy nods. “Believe me, I know. And I’m proud of you, remember? What have I done when you told me that you  _ do _ like men?”

“Told me you were really glad for me.”, Oliver mumbles. Why does he have to make it feel like a test? It’s not like he’d just forget about what an awesome friend Tommy is just because he got some new ones, too.

“And what else?”

“Kissed the shit out of me.”, Oliver snorts. “Probably to check if I had a boner for you.”

“Still not sure if I should be happy or insulted that you don’t…”, Tommy mumbles with a grin. “Anyway, what I’m getting at: I know that you love those idiots and what they gave you, yeah? Don’t think that I’m not aware. But you’re not their father and you don’t need to be available 24/7.”

Of course, he’s right. It’s not even that Oliver really thinks he’s got the responsibility over anything other than organisation stuff. But then, he’s the one with the most influence there, the one who can just pay for everyone’s needs. (Sara really had to talk him out of giving Cisco thousands of dollars for his surgeries because apparently that was rude?) And with some of the backstories the chat members have going on, it’s easy to be worried. “Hartley was introduced as Cisco’s boyfriend today. And Mick and the Snarts are invited at Bar’s. They’re all not very good at stuff like that…”

“They’re all adults.”, Tommy tells him. “Plus, even if it did get bad, they can still  _ call _ you. Hell, I bet you guys never talk about anything remotely serious.”

Oliver stops himself from replying, sensing that it wouldn’t do any good anyway. Tommy would just find new things to nag him about and in the end, Oliver would just get angry at him even though he knows he only means well. He could tell him how they kept Hartley from being homeless, of course, Tommy knows that, but he’d probably draw attention onto the fact that now Hartley’s very dependent on  _ them _ . Which would be ironic, you know, because both of them still live off their parents money, too. 

So yeah, he drops it. 

“You know, though - actually I’d meant to save it for tomorrow, but it’s not  _ really _ a present, so…” Tommy doesn’t want to fight either, apparently. “I’ve thought of becoming an investor in your project. Like, written in and everything.”

Oliver can’t help but stare at him. He’d expected that Tommy would want to contribute to it, if not because it’s a good cause then because it’s his best friend who has founded it (and, maybe, so he wouldn’t look dumb in front of Bruce next week), but that? It’s bigger than he’d have thought. It’d mean constant donations and if he wanted, Tommy could even take up more responsibility about everything they could do with it. 

“Really?”

Tommy shrugs. “It seems like a good thing, doesn’t it? And I trust the guy running it that he won’t make me, like, do slave work.”

“Oh, but I totally would.”

“‘Course.”, Tommy snorts. “Besides that, it’s probably a good test run for our shared business, isn’t it?”

“Suppose so.”, Oliver agrees. Owning a club together has become a more fixed idea the older they get - with Tommy gaining work experience and Oliver learning how to really lead and finance it - but they still have never even had to share single thing in their life. When Oliver got a new car, Tommy got one, too, rather than ask if he could take it for a ride once. 

And yet, it feels more serious than even that. That support group has sprung from a really personal idea of his, one that he’d fight for no matter what. If Tommy were to disagree about the wrong thing when it comes to it, it could put a real strain on their friendship. It’s something that concerns an area of life that affects Oliver in some extend, in a way that Tommy wouldn’t understand. 

But as he watches Tommy fill up both their glasses, he wonders if that’s even possible. They might not see eye to eye sometimes, it certainly not about these topics, but if there’s one thing he can be sure of, it’s Tommy’s support.

He accepts his glass in thanks and raises it in cheers. “Well, we’re partners then, huh?”

Tommy grins. “Always been, man.”


	8. Part 1 Chapter 39: Mick's Christmas Eve (ft. the Snarts and West-Allens)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This belongs into [Chapter 39](http://archiveofourown.org/works/12083541/chapters/29419512) of the main fic.

“Hey Bar,” Len says into the telephone, his voice sounding so much unlike himself that Mick has to supress a groan. Honestly, the guy is so fucking gone for the Allen kid, it’s ridiculous. He doesn’t even understand what the deal is about them. Like sure, once they get comfortable their jokes and teases can almost match his own, but still. Apparently, Len’s really going celibate for them, so there has to be _something_ … “Mind if I call you back? I need to stop Lisa from murdering Mick.”

Mick huffs at those words. In fact, Lisa looks like she’d like to throw herself at him after he’d commented on her ideas for a Christmas dinner, but even in her angriest state she wouldn't be able to scrape his skin. The Old Guy may have taught them both some fucked up shit, but neither of the Snart siblings is really a killer. He doubts Lisa has ever even injured a person on purpose.

“Oh, _detective_.”, Len continues then, his voice slipping up a bit. Hell, he even sits up straight as if the guy were here to judge him. “Is everything alright with Barry, sir?”

It’s funny to see him look this obedient, so much that even Lisa puts down the knife she’d picked up and frowns at him. Of course, she knows what a puppy her brother can be, she is the one who manipulates him into this state most of the time, but it must be weird _not_ to be the reason for once.

West replies something of a certain length and Len’s expression goes from concern to relief and then something almost unreadable. If Mick didn’t know any better, he’d guess it’s _fear_. Since when is Christmas the annual time of intimidation? From the talks about it, West has even supposedly took a liking to him, for some godforsaken reason.

“Uh, no, that’s right.”, Len says after a few moments. “Today? No, we hadn’t-- I mean, I could ask. ... Yes, sir.”

He covers the phone with his hand and looks between the two of them. Then he sighs, “What do you guys think about spending Christmas Eve at the Wests’?”

Mick crooks an eyebrow. “Lemme guess, you’re basically ordered and are a fucking coward.”

“No,” Len drawls, “We’re _all_ invited. It would be rude to decline.”

“You’re _such_ a fucking coward.”, Mick snorts. He can see how Len puts on an act, with the way he frowns and his voice gets even more nasal.

“Do we get food? Is it good?”, Lisa wants to know. They’d originally decided to just live off the loaf of bread in their cupboard today, seeing how she’d meant to cook only tomorrow. And since neither Mick nor Len had been sure how old that even is, eating something else seems like a good perspective.

Len shrugs. “Iris’s talked about some good eggnog, that much I know.”

“Huh,” Mick makes at that. He shares a look with Lisa who breaks into a grin. Then, turning to Len again, he nods curtly. “Yeah, let’s go there.”

“You’re fucking unbelievable.” Len rolls his eyes before putting the phone against his ear again. “We’ll come over. … Yeah, when? … Okay, yes, thank you for the invitation, sir.”

He hangs up quickly and throws evil glares at both of them, pressing his lips together. It doesn’t stop them from snickering, though, even when he swats against Mick’s head on his way to the wardrobe.

“Mick,” he calls as he pulls his sweater off his body, throwing it onto his bed. Mick knows that voice, it’s the one he uses when he’s actually pissed at him - and seeing how they still have to share that limited space, he really doesn’t want to have Len pissed at him -, so he sits up. “Put on something clean, will you?”

He does get up, but it doesn’t stop him from teasing. “Don’t want me to embarrass ya, huh?”

Len rolls his eyes and steps back, making room for Mick to get out his own clothes. “In case you forgot, West’s also the one responsible for _you_ being here. If you piss him off, he could easily get you locked up after all.”

Mick scoffs while taking out another Henley. “Think I care?”

“Mic _k_ ,” Len says again, this time not just threatening but almost… sounding whining, of course. Because Len’s the king of whining about random stuff.

And well, he’s quite good at that, Mick has to admit. He doesn’t know why Len suddenly acts like he cares about the world and the world cares about him, but Mick won’t let his own disinterest step inbetween that. After all, he’s known from the beginning that Len wouldn’t last long in a prison, so he’ll play nice if it keeps him out of one.

“Fine, I’ll behave.”, he mutters and turns to change.

From her place at the counter Lisa shakes her head with a chuckle. “You know, I’ve always waited for the heist where you two get married. But I guess Lenny’s too much in love to even fake-cheat on his Bar.”

“I’m not _in love_ ,” Len insists, a little too fast and snippish to be real. He’s honestly so gone, Mick just can’t understand. “I hope you’ll behave yourself, too.”

“I wouldn’t dream of embarrassing you, brother dear.”, Lisa says sweetly.

“Yeah,” Len says dryly, “Of course. We’re supposed to be there in half an hour and we still need to pick up some wine from the liquor store, so hurry up.”

 

*

 

They’ve made it to the Wests’ home within twenty minutes, thanks to the controlling nature of Len. He’d been so eager to be on time that he hadn’t even minded Mick speeding, despite his beloved sister sitting on the bike behind him. In any other moment he’d have enjoyed seeing Len and his long limbs be pressed into the small sidecar of the bike they’ve come to share, but the look he gives him when he takes down his helmet makes him close his mouth immediately.

Honestly, Mick guesses Len’s never been more thankful for his shaved head. The guy would probably explode if he were to face helmet hair in a moment like this.

He watches as Len switches the wine they’d bought (not the cheapest, but still in their price range - even the prospect of charming his future father-in-law doesn’t make him miscalculate their money) for the helmet Lisa hands him. It’s ridiculous how carefully he puts it into her hands, telling her with a single glance that he’ll never forgive her if she drops it. And then, as if it were normal, he just leans down to put the helmet away.

Lisa raises an eyebrow and turns to Mick, mouthing ‘ _What the fuck?_ ’ at him. Mick just shrugs in return. How the hell should he know what kind of being stole Len’s skin?

They wait for Len to take the lead, seeing how he is the one who actually is invited (and probably also the one who actually wants to be there, for one reason or another). Mick can tell that Lisa is quite curious and excited to meet whoever has got her brother so whipped - meaning the detective, of course; she’s met Bar before and while she’d been quite enamoured by them, too, it’s West who makes him act like a dog. She almost jumps up and down as she walks towards the door next to him, her long hair moving behind her. Sometimes he can still see the little girl in her he’s met years ago.

Len wipes his hands on his jeans before ringing the bell. He’s actually fucking nervous. Mick can’t help but smirk at that. He wishes he had a proper phone with a camera that works within seconds instead of minutes so he could film it, but his memory will have to be enough for blackmailing material.

It takes only a few moments before Detective West himself opens the door, wearing a serious and yet _not_ grim expression when he sees them. He waves Len closer and holds out his hand. “Son.”

“Sir,” Len replies, shaking the hand firmly.

“That your sister?”, West wants to know, looking Lisa up and down.

Before Len can reply, she jumps forward, shaking the Detective’s hand as well. “I’m Lisa! Nice to meet you.”

West looks a bit surprised at her cheerfulness, but he nods at her. When he releases her hand, he steps aside, letting them both in. And both of those traitors actually go without looking back at Mick once.

If anyone asks later on, he totally did not swallow when West narrowed his eyes at him. They shake hands as well, and the Detective just says, “Rory. Welcome.”

“Thank you, Detective.”, he replies, trying his best not to seem too tense. He doesn’t know why, but seeing West somehow makes him almost regret how he’s never listened to Len talk about him. After all, he really is the one who kept them out of prison, even though he had the chance and means to.

“Come in,” West says and waves him in, “You do know my kids as well, don’t you?”

“Two of them.”, Mick says quickly and walks inside. Looking at the check, he considers putting his jacket next to Len’s parka for a moment before deciding to keep it on for at least a few more minutes. It’s stupid, but he does feel better with the extra layer on.

West doesn’t mind him keeping it on but walks down the few steps into the living room. It looks comfy, with the couch and arm chair in front of the fireplace. And with Lisa standing there, chatting happily with Iris, he almost doesn’t feel like an intruder.

“I do hope y’all are not forgetting about the salad!”, West calls against another door.

A second later, Bar’s voice answers, sounding a bit hoarse. “No, of course not, Joe!”

West turns around, sharing a look with his daughter and they both start giggling (okay, Detective West _giggles_. That’s messed up.). “Bar’s so bad at that.”

“Yeah, I think they’re both just assuming we’re stupid.”, Iris agrees. Then she finally turns to the stairs, where Mick’s still standing. “Oh hey, what’s up?”

“Christmas.”, Mick grunts.

“Never asked - are you even religious? Or, well, Christian?”

At that, Mick finally enters the living room as well. It’s weird, but Iris acting like it’s normal for him to be there almost makes the whole thing normal. She’s got a kickass aura, in a way that she wouldn’t mind showing you when you’re somewhere you shouldn’t be, so her approval is cool. He shakes his head at her question. “Haven’t celebrated it in years.”

“That’s sad.”, Iris says. “But hey, this year really’s got the spirit, huh? I mean, Tommy’s present was cool, wasn’t it?”

Mick shrugs. In fact, he’d spent an entire evening staring at the fire and wondering how it works - he _is_ an expert on all things pyro, so it irks him not to understand it. “Haircut’s done an alright job, I guess.”

Iris’ lips twitch at the nickname, as if she knew something. And honestly, even if he did insist on it because Ray’s hair really nice to hold onto while fucking him into the mattress, why should he care if she knew? But his eyes dart over to where West is still standing between them and what’s presumably the kitchen door, and he scowls a bit.

Lisa pats his arm gently and smiles up at him. “I really loved the skates you got me. Now I don’t even have to pay a fee to borrow any when I wanna teach people a lesson.”

“Your brother would’ve given me the lecture of the century if I gifted you anything shit.”, he says dryly.

“Mick, you literally said you wanted to get her a _good_ present.”, Len suddenly speaks up. He’s holding a bowl in his hands, walking to place them on the table behind them. He looks almost like he’s at home here.

“Yeah, because you would’ve given me the lecture of the century if I’d gifted her anything shit.”, Mick repeats.

Len scoffs at that. He comes down to them as well, taking a stance in the space between him and the Detective.

“What did you get again, Snart?”, Iris wants to know.

“I _did_ get shit.”, Len says theatrically. “Have a billionaire pick my name and what do I get? Cookbooks.”

“At least they’re vegetarian.”, Lisa comments.

“Vegan even.”, Len corrects her. He wears a small smile because he _hadn’t_ actually expected a big present. Hell, for Len it’s already been much when Mick gave him half a pack of cigarettes for his birthday one year. Surprisingly, when it comes to things like this he isn’t a man of great expectations.

Mick’s already mentally preparing himself for a continuation of this discussion of presents - honestly he’s already forgotten who gave whom what and he couldn’t care less - when there’s the sound of another ceramic bowl being put down on the table. He’s honestly never been more thankful to see a small guy throw an awkward smile into his general direction.

Bar’s just putting out another bowl when the last West kid announces, “Uh, dinner’s ready?”

 

*

 

Dinner was… interesting. Mick has no idea when Len became even remotably comfortable in the Wests’ house, but the way he sat wrenched between Bar and Lisa and barely even shot any snarky comments says a lot. Hell, he’d even had his own small bowl with sausage-less potato salad like they’d expected him to stop by no matter what.

The food’s been good, though, Mick has to admit and even though the conversations going on hadn’t been his taste at all (he really lost even the last bit of his attention when the nerds started geeking out together - thinking about it, half the chat plus Wally should just open up a nerd club) it could have been worse. Plus, with Lisa sitting across from him it was easy enough to team up on making Wally uncomfortable. Can’t blame them, though, when the guy already seems intimidated by having Mick just sit next to him. Easy target.

Somehow, it ended like this: Wally swatting away all the comments either him or Lisa throw at him in favour of later running off to grab a science project. In the meantime, the detective has put cleaning duty on Len and Bar, either oblivious or nonchalant about the fact they’ll probably make out more than anything. And then, Mick has somehow found his way onto the couch in the living room, with Iris sitting next to him and Lisa on the floor, leaning against his shins. West’s taken the armchair for himself, settling into it comfortably.

It should feel weird, and it _does_ feel weird, but not in a bad kind of way. A part of Mick is sure that all of this is just an act of the Detective - he might have actually started liking Len but there’s no way he’d even consider the possibility of Mick being something other than a criminal. And honestly? He doesn’t care. He is one and it _won’t_ change. So yeah, the guy’s probably just waiting for him to fuck up so he can send him to prison at last and save the city some money.

It doesn’t even take too long until Iris pulls her phone out of her pocket even though she’s involved in a conversation with her father. She does apologize a few moments later though, and then she gets up, leaving the Detective’s attention all on him. He supposes Lisa could be a victim, too, usually, but she’s also like a cat. The way she sits down there, not saying anything, it’s easy to forget she’s even there, he supposes.

“Iris has told me you finally chose a major.”, West says after a few moments of staring, sounding almost nonchalant. “Took a while.”

Mick grunts shortly. “Yeah, no, I'd never given much thought into what to study.”

West raises an eyebrow. “But you _did_ graduate High School.”

“Don't _have_ to go to college after that, do you?”, Mick replies dryly. If he'd had it his way, he would've stopped going to school even before the stunt that got him into juvie. It wasn't that he was bad at it - his grades were probably better than anyone expected - but it was _boring_ as hell. He didn't care for the topics, didn't care for the people and certainly didn't care about the future. But if he'd quit school, his grandma would've thrown him out. He wouldn't have had a problem with sleeping on the streets or something, but he's always had the feeling that Len bringing his sister with him when he visited almost daily was more serious than he let on (and how right that assumption had been, in the end). So yeah, he did not graduate for _himself_.

Thankfully, West seems to have left his interrogative behaviour at the precinct because he drops the topic. Instead, he calls for Iris. “Baby, will you put your phone away for a moment? God knows why you're using it so much lately…”, he mumbles it more to himself than anything before raising his voice a little. “It's time for Grandma Esther's eggnog, don't you think?”

At that, Lisa sits up straight. She crawls her fingernails into Mick’s legs to prop herself up and ignores the swat he gives her. Honestly, knowing West she won’t even get anything with her 18 years - the guy’s probably so strict he wouldn’t even give anyone under drinking age some pralines filled with alcohol. But well, that is her battle to fight. As long as he gets any, he doesn’t care.

  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Let me know what you think about this chapter! :)


	9. Part 1 Chapter 39: Ronnie/Caitlin proposal

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Belongs, like the ones before, to [Chapter 39](http://archiveofourown.org/works/12083541/chapters/29419512)!
> 
> Also, note that Caitlin does not do bio-engineering in the gc au but "simply" general practice.

“Hey babe, you  _ know _ you’re on vacation now, don’t you?”, Ronnie says softly as xe leans over to press a kiss against Cait’s neck. “Relax.”

Cait snorts but turns the chair around anyway. “And  _ you _ know my mum will have my head if I can’t list the most recent developments in bio-engineering.”

She looks tired which is no surprise considering everything: She’s had classes every day this semester and even with the excitement she has for Christmas in general, it also means they’ll have to visit her mother. And well… come to think of it, the number of people Ronnie knows that really get along with their parents is small.

Still, xe tries xyr best to cheer her up. “Hey, I’m sure she’ll be happy to see you in general. No need to impress her, huh?”

“Ronnie, you have literally met her several times. Did she ever seem  _ just _ ‘happy to see me’?”, she wants to know, sending xem a cold glare.

It’s true, actually, that her mother turns almost every meeting into a test - it’s like she doesn’t trust Cait to do well on her own. That she’d rather have her join the company she works for is no secret any more. You’d think she’d know better by now that Cait’s more than halfway through with her studying, acing everything, and yet… There’s a reason they don’t go to Clara’s really often.

“You know what? I’m gonna give you a massage.”, Ronnie decides. Xe doesn’t wait for Cait’s complains but reaches past her to close the laptop. Then xe takes her by the hand, “Come on.”

She doesn’t seem too happy about that but doesn’t fight Ronnie’s pull either. She probably knows deep down that it doesn’t make any sense to try and punch the information into her head now anyways - it’s not like she doesn’t know  _ anything _ , she’s becoming a doctor after all, but her mother really asks about every little detail in that area of science. And sometimes she just needs Ronnie to remind her of what she already knows. 

Xe leads her into the bedroom easily, holding her close. They’re working together as they take off her blouse, slowly opening the buttons and sharing kisses in between, but it’s not too heated. They’re long past the times where seeing the other naked definitely leads to sex, but it doesn’t mean that Cait doesn’t shiver when xe runs a hand over her hip. 

She laughs softly against xyr lips and xe can feel goosebumps spreading over her body. “Do you want to skip the massage?”

Xe shakes xyr head but moves to press kisses along her throat anyways. “Later maybe,” xe breathes and lifts xyr hands higher until they’re at the clasp of her bra. Xe opens it quickly and pulls away then, “Go lie down, I’m gonna grab some oil.”

Xe only waits for her to nod before walking into the bathroom. They’ve gotten quite a collection of different scents there nowadays, all for supposedly different purposes, but in the end it’s always the same one xe chooses for her. It’s the one that smells best and xe’d rather have the bed smell like something that does not burn in xyr nose.

Cait’s already laid down on the bed when xe comes back, her head propped up on a pillow. Like this, she almost looks like she’s asleep. Xe bends down while walking over to pick up the clothes she’d shed and places them on the sideboard. Cait turns her head when xe climbs onto the bed, smiling at xem softly.

“Hey, don’t fall asleep on me,” Ronnie says softly, nudging her shoulder a bit. 

“Wouldn’t dream of it.”, she breathes in response, even though it’s happened plenty of times already. And honestly? Xe really doesn’t mind. She could just doze off right now, if she felt like it, and xe’d probably throw a party because it’d mean she actually gets a night’s sleep for once before visiting her mother.

Xe chuckles softly and climbs over her, putting xyr knees next to her hips and props open the lid of the oil. There’s not a single thing xe doesn’t like about Cait and her body, but if xe’d had to pick a favourite thing, it would definitely be her lower back. It’s still as soft as anything else, but it’s like the point where everything meets, including her nerves, judging by the shudder she lets out whenever xe touches it. 

Xe doesn’t start massaging right away but spreads the oil over her back first, making sure everything’s covered and warming up. And even though xe doesn’t do anything more, Cait lets out small sounds that cause xem to grin. Why don’t they do this more often?

They’re lining up perfectly as xe moves to reach every inch of her body, despite the fact that - safe for xyr hands - xe doesn’t even touch her. It’s always been fascinating how well they fit together, even though Ronnie’s much broader and harder and the fact that there used to be another body that didn’t mess it up either. It’s like: xem and Cait? Fitting together no matter what. 

“Hm,” she sighs when xe finally starts putting pressure against her shoulder blades, “You know, you should just become a professional masseur so I can tell my co-workers in the future how I’m married to one and make them jealous.”

Ronnie can’t help but tense at her words. It’s not the first time that either of them is randomly talking about the prospect of them still being together even in a distance of several years, but lately… Lately xe feels like it’s time to actually finally do something to get there. It’s not like they’d need to put a new label on it, it’s not like their relationship stagnated and they need to put a twist on it, but xe’d really like it to progress in a certain direction. 

“You know, I’ve been thinking about that.”, xe says then, not stopping the massage even though that’s probably not the situation to have this talk.

“Becoming a masseur?” There’s a tease in her voice and Ronnie knows that discussing it  _ can’t _ be wrong. 

Still, xe rolls xyr eyes. “Marriage.”, xe says softly. “And, you know… us.”

At that, Cait leans up on her elbows and turns around underneath xem. She’s looking at xem with wide eyes as she leans back. “Are you--?”

“Proposing?”, xe finishes, smiling at her softly. “Yeah. I mean, when I imagined it you were wearing more clothes, but it’ll do.”, xe adds with a look down at her breasts.

Cait laughs and swats at xem. Then she catches xyr hand in hers and smiles up at xem. “Imagined it, huh?”

“I have rings in my nightstand.”, xe admits seriously.

“Wait, really?”

Instead of replying, xe leans over and opens the drawer. Xe’s had them stored there for a quite a while now, simply because it had been obvious that in the end they’d  _ get there _ , but recently they haven’t been as dusty as they used to be. 

Xe pulls the box out and sits back, opening it to her. “What do you say?”

“Since when do you have those?”, she wants to know.

Xe shrugs softly. “Months. Though I’d only actually started to  _ think about it _ since… well. Since Cisco broke up with me.”

The look she gives xem is full of love, and sadness, of happiness and compassion; and most of all full of understanding. Xe doesn’t know how she does it, being so perfect and loving no matter what. How she didn’t have an ounce of jealousy ever and how even now, in this situation, she doesn’t mind that xe brings up Cisco. 

Xe doesn’t need to explain, even though it’s stupid. That somehow, xe feels like having Cisco breaking up with xem was like a reminder that it doesn’t necessarily  _ have _ to be endless. That, in a way, it’d be best to make sure that they’re both on the same page, with a symbol even though they both  _ know  _ it anyways.

“I love you,” Cait says softly, lifting a hand to stroke over xyr cheek. She leans up to kiss xem shortly. “I hope you’re aware that I wouldn’t say no, not even in a million years.”

“I  _ know _ .”, xe answers, pressing back. “It’d still be nice to hear it.”

“You’re impossible.”, she chuckles. “But yes, Ronnie Raymond, I’ll marry you.”

It’s like the distance between them gets smaller and smaller as they kiss again, and with Cait’s giggles against xyr lips Ronnie’s certain that no proposal xe would have come up with had been a better fit for them - it didn’t matter how it happened, they don’t need something big as long as they have each other.

“You do know, though,” she mumbles when xyr hands find their place in the loops of her jeans, “that Cisco will castrate you if you don’t tell him.”

And honestly? If anyone who doesn’t know them were to judge this scene, they’d find so many mistakes. It’s barely romantic, Cait’s not even dressed properly, and now she casually mentions xyr ex. But to them, it makes sense. It makes  _ so _ much sense. It’s perfect.

“You’re right.”, xe says and leans back, thumbling xyr phone out of xyr pants. Xe’ll just sent him a quick message and get into the story later, right now there’s something else xe’d rather get into.

“You should also, like, post a picture into the chat and see if anyone notices.”, she suggests. “I bet they won’t.”

“Great idea. Care to join me?”

She shakes her head with another grin, lifting up the box where xe’s left it. She takes one of the rings out of it and pulls xyr hand closer then, sliding it on. “I don’t see much use in putting on a shirt when we’ll take it off soon again anyway.


	10. Part 1 Chapter 39: Hartmon Christmas Eve

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Same as before, this belongs to Chapter 39.
> 
> Geez, I made myself fall in love with Hartley Rathaway

“‘Quito?”, Hartley calls softly. If it weren't for his surprise about the lack of another body's warmth next to him, he wouldn't have raised his head. Both he and Cisco like to sleep in more than anything, which means neither of them surprises the other with breakfast in the morning, but it works just fine. He enjoys the early hours of the days snuggled up against one another more anyway.

But now it's still dark outside and yet he has the whole (albeit very small) bed to himself. It wouldn't be the first time, considering how easily Cisco can lose himself in the depths of the internet - it doesn't even matter if it's exploring a new project or memes - but they _did_ go to sleep together. They'd both been quite swamped after the day with Cisco's family, even though he'd insisted it went quite well and Hartley should be thankful it wasn't a _big_ thing, so it's surprising he's not asleep.

With a sigh Hartley sits up at last, throwing back the sheets. He reaches out for the nightstand and picks up one of his aids from there, putting it in his worse ear so that he’d be able to hear at least somewhat. Sometimes he's really thankful for Cisco's small apartment. There'd be enough possibilities to hide himself if they were at the Quiver in contrast to here where it's either the kitchen or bathroom.

Hartley worries that he might have left the apartment altogether when he doesn't find him sitting at the kitchen table and already makes a list of places he could've gone to. It's past 3am, so Detective West wouldn't be happy with finding a stray boy in his house and he guesses Bar wouldn't like him to be angry at them yet again, so that's out of question. But there's still the Quiver, empty safe for Lisa if she hasn't stayed with her brother, that Cisco could go to.

Hartley throws a glance to the table where he had put down his keys earlier - they're still there, so that's out of question then.

He shakes his head softly, mostly to himself. There isn't even a reason for Cisco to be going somewhere else. If anything, he would've thrown Hartley out rather than let him have the bed. Plus, Hartley _knows_ there's no reason for Cisco to be pissed at him; he's behaved quite well today safe for a few snaps at Dante.

He finds him in the bathroom at last, sitting on the floor with his back against the wall. Cisco doesn’t even flinch when he turns on the light, just keeps staring at the pipe under the basin. There’s circles under his eyes, which is understandable with the stress he’s had today. He’s tried to seem chill, but Hartley knows about the tension between him and his immediate family. It’s not as bad as with his own, of course, but it’s taken its toll on Cisco anyway. And yet, it’s gone quite well, so that shouldn’t be his reasoning for looking like a zombie.

"You know what's good for insomnia?", Hartley prompts and leans against the doorframe. "Long, hot baths."

"Here I thought you'd say sex.", Cisco says dryly, still staring ahead.

Hartley breaks into a grin at that. "I mean, we can totally go and try that."

Cisco groans at that, but he starts smiling a little as he says, "You really _are_ always horny."

"Should've known that by now.", Hartley shrugs and steps into the room. There's not much space there, but he sinks down on the floor across from him, pulling his legs close. "What's up?"

"You are.", Cisco notes. "Honestly, I never would have taken you for a cuddler."

Hartley smiles at that. He loves hearing what Cisco used to think about him and how it's changed, what he's had right from the start, and what he's learnt with the time. "Well, you _did_ hate me. Probably thought I'd kick people out of my bed immediately, huh?"

Cisco snorts. "Babe, you never had any in _your_ bed.", he reminds him. Then he leans forward, placing his hand on the back of Hartley's head and pulls him closer for a short kiss.

Hartley stays there when their lips part after a small moment and takes Cisco's wrists into his hands. "What's wrong? Is this about today?"

"You were perfect.", he replies. "Almost _too_ perfect. There wasn't even any innuendo today, was there?"

It hadn't been a conscious choice of his - it's the first time he's met a pair of parents whose approval he wanted, seeing how Cisco is his first real boyfriend. And given their history, they might not have the best stories about him in mind. He's almost not dared to even open his mouth today, just in case he might fuck up. So yeah, no innuendoes.

He rubs slow circles over Cisco's wrists, massaging them softly. "When was even the last time you had a comfy bath?"

Cisco lets out a small chuckle. "You're really obsessed with that. I guess that'll be a requirement in the future?"

Hartley catches up on the words immediately. It's weird, the thought of moving in with a boyfriend should be scaring him at least a little, especially since they're not even dating for a month, but with Cisco it just makes sense. They haven't even said 'I love you' yet, probably because neither of them is there yet given their history, but it doesn't seem strange to think about a future with him. He supposes it’s because they've been in each other's lives for so long.

"Obviously," he agrees, "I won't move anywhere that doesn't have a tub. I'm snobby like that."

"No surprise here.", Cisco replies. Then, changing the topic without a pause, he continues, "Ronnie and Cait are gonna get married."

 _Oh_ . "So that's what this is about.", Hartley says quietly. He should've concluded that himself, after all Cisco had been dating Ronnie since his first weeks at college. He knows that they've still been in love even after they broke up, and Cisco still feels strongly about xem, despite his recent attraction to Hartley. Of course, that's developed into more, too, since they started dating, but it's still different.

It's always fascinating how well Cisco can read him. "I'm not jealous.", he assures him. "If I'd wanted to still date xem, I wouldn't have broken up. It's just..."

Hartley releases his hands to let him gesture. He used to think it's weird how Cisco uses them so much when he's talking about _anything_ , but he's learnt it's just his way of finding words, as if he has to rip them down from the atmosphere.

He watches as Cisco waves them around a bit and waits for him to continue.

"I feel like they would have done so already if--", he cuts himself off.

"If you hadn't been there?", Hartley guesses. He's still not that used to seeing Cisco this vulnerable, not when they've spent years showing off to one another and trying to seem as confident as possible.

"Yeah.", Cisco nods. He hesitates for a moment. "I'm sorry, I shouldn't even be _caring_ or at least not put it on _you_."

"No, you definitely should.", Hartley insists. He would be lying if he claimed he doesn't feel any jealousy, despite Cisco's words, but he also trusts him. "For what it's worth, I _know_ you weren't a burden on their relationship. Ronnie would have known xe could complain to me if it had been differently."

Cisco's lip twitches. "Would have loved to turn my datemate against me, huh?"

“‘Course.”, Hartley nods. “My undying love for you has always been a fundamental force in my life. Honestly, I think xyr words had only made it worse - xe’s really loved you.”

He supposes it should be weird to be talking about his boyfriend’s past relationship like that, but with Ronnie being pretty much his closest friend, it’s just a given. It wouldn’t make sense anyway to act like it never happened, seeing how all of them are still evolved with one another. And Cisco even brings up Hartley’s past one night stands without batting an eye. Most of all, it almost seems like that’s his way of finding out what Hartley really likes.

“I don’t think you’ve held them back,” Hartley continues. “Ronnie might have been sad xe couldn’t just propose to both of you, so xe decided to not do it at all.”

He means it in all honesty, but Cisco actually starts laughing at it. “I think I’d have punched xem in the face if xe thought I’d want to get married with 20.”

Hartley joins into his laughter. “My, who would have thought you’re not a fan of early commitment?”

“I have nothing against commitment until it’s written down.”, Cisco states, sounding seriously. “The only time I actually liked that was my name change.”

Hartley huffs at that. “I don’t think I’ve never even signed anything proper in my whole life.”

“That’s because you’re a spoiled baby.”, Cisco replies dryly, grinning up at him. He finally takes one of Hartley’s hands again, intertwining their fingers. “You’re way better at that whole boyfriend thing than I thought, you know?”

“Wow, thanks.”, Hartley makes sarcastically. He lifts Cisco’s hand and presses a kiss against it before mumbling, “You make it quite easy, though.”

Cisco grimaces softly. “Not so sure about that.”

“Hell, I’m pretty sure you want to deck me most of the time - and not even in a sexual way.”

“Ah, I’d say it’s 50:50.” He grins and leans forward again to kiss Hartley, this time a bit fiercer than before.

Hartley puts his other hand on his hip when Cisco turns to kneel, making the distance between them smaller. Like this, he’s a bit taller than Hartley, something that even with their very active sex life isn’t too common. It’s a good feeling to have Cisco fist into his hair and pull him up as they kiss, causing Hartley to moan into his mouth.

“Ever had sex on a floor?”, Cisco breathes against his mouth, chuckling along to the words.

“No,” Hartley tells him. “Though I’m not sure I trust this one here to be hygienic at all.”

Cisco huffs, releasing him a bit. Hartley fears he might have blown his chance when his grin falls and he raises his brows. “Why do I think you’ve had sex in _actual_ shitholes?”

“Not all of them were Axel-types.”, Hartley says seriously. “I mean, I do have standards, in the long run.”

“Cute.”, Cisco smirks and gives him another peck. Then he gets up and takes Hartley by the hand, making him follow. “I really _am_ tired.”

Hartley pulls him against his chest and pouts. “You’re a tease.”

“I’ll make it up to you in the morning.”, Cisco promises, leaning up to kiss him again. “Then we’ll have to get up anyway, so cleaning up won’t be a big deal.”

“What would I do without you giving me reasons to get out of bed?”

“Be an even more depressed mess, I’d say.”, he grins softly and takes one of Hartley’s hands off his back, holding onto it instead and leading him out of the bathroom.

Hartley shakes his head in laughter. Anyone else would probably come up with nonsense. But Cisco? Even now he won’t back down from calling him out on his bullshit, and Hartley couldn’t be happier.


	11. Part 1 Chapter 51: ColdFlash + Eddie Hanging Out

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> unfinishedduet asked for a fleshed out scene of Snart, Bar and Eddie hanging out in [Chapter 51](https://archiveofourown.org/works/12083541/chapters/33406113) of the first semester. So here we go. Warning: This is very cute. Also, I used to write lots of Thallen back in the day.

“Please tell me that did not actually just happen.”

Eddie rubs his forehead, trying to shove away the pain. He shoots a glare up at Snart, who’s actually had the  _ audacity _ to start laughing at him - and with everything, hearing him laugh is equivalent to him stabbing a knife into your back, he’s sure. Snart’s seriously enjoying him sitting on the ground and Bar’s not even helping.

In fact, they’re looking down at their own phone when he looks up. “I  _ can _ pass on that you’re alright, yes? Alive and breathing.”

“I liked you better before you were dating him.”, Eddie replies, narrowing his eyes even more as he nods in Snart’s direction. Still, he accepts Bar’s hand when they extend it after wrapping up texting - presumably about him walking into a fucking lamp post.

“We’ve pretty much been dating ever since you met them.”, Snart points out, shrugging a little. And yes, of course it looks all nonchalant and cool.

“You want me to kiss it better?”, Bar offers. Eddie smiles softly as their hands close around his cheeks and they lean down a little to inspect his forehead. He can practically hear Snart scowl, but that doesn’t stop him from nodding.

And Bar actually follows through, pressing their lips softly against Eddie’s skin for a moment. He can’t help but relax into the touch, even if he’d mostly agreed just to rile up Snart. Bar’s just good at calming people down and he genuinely likes them, so it’s nothing if not soothing.

“Break it off, will you?”, Snart groans. Seriously, it’s almost funny that none of them are allowed to mention his jealousy when it’s so fucking prominent. Eddie’s pretty sure one of these days someone will get killed just for looking at Bar the wrong way. 

Though, Bar’s pretty good at sticking up to that. They ignore him in favour of running their thumb over Eddie’s forehead again. “You good?”

He can’t help but let out a laugh at their concern, especially since Snart mumbles beside them. He’s pretty sure that any moment now he’ll put them apart. “Do me a favour and marry me?”

“Sure,” Bar snorts. They turn their head to shoot a grin at Snart again, “Hear that? I just became engaged.”

“I doubt that either West would appreciate that.”, Snart replies. He reaches for Bar’s hand and pulls it off Eddie’s face at last.

“You think you really have won over the Detective?”, he teases. Seriously, if he had to pinpoint the strangest thing about their whole group shenanigans it’s that miraculously Leonard Snart has ended up on Detective West’s good side. He doesn’t know him personally, but already from the sounds of it it’s seemed impossible. Bar might be exceptionally good at manipulating people who like him.

“Sure have, pretty boy.”, Snart smirks. “Though I was more thinking about  _ Miss _ West.”

“ _ Len _ ,” Bar says slowly, but in a determined and low voice.

Snart raises his hands in what’s probably supposed to fake innocence when it actually just portrays his teasing further. Really, the least he could’ve done was wipe his smirk off his face.

“What do you mean?”, Eddie wants to know. He even frowns at him, trying to mix his best puppy eyes into the mix. They probably won’t be as effective as Bar’s or Cisco’s, but it’s worth a try.

“Nope,” Bar cuts in before Snart can even  _ start _ to react. They shake their head firmly and reach for an arm of each of them, curling their own through them. “I was promised boba, so I want my boba. Post-exam boba.”

“Say that more often and boba won’t be a word any more.”, Snart tells them. 

And since Bar is actually a little shit in disguise, they simply go, “Boba boba boba boba boba--”, for so long and so fast that Eddie thinks they could easily have a career as a rapper. Are white rappers even still in? The only one he can remember from top of his head is Eminem, actually, and Bar’s so far from that guy - in a positive way, naturally - that that comparison seems almost insulting. 

“Oh God, stop.”, Snart says sternly, moving to clasp a hand over Bar’s mouth. Eddie can’t help but chuckle; it’s such a  _ human _ reaction, it barely fits to him at all.

Bar sticks out their tongue as they duck away, bumping their shoulder against Eddie. “Make me!”

“Oh God, this is so cliche.”, Eddie breathes through a grimace. He pulls on Bar’s arm to make them stop  _ flirting _ and start  _ moving _ . “Come on, a sweet death awaits us.”

 

-

 

“It’s not  _ death _ .”, Bar insists as they take a picture of their cups on the table. 

“Don’t tag me on that,” Snart chimes in, “I don’t wanna be associated with him.” That’s accompanied by a nod into Eddie’s direction.

“Jokes on you, I don’t have an instagram.”, Eddie replies, sticking out his tongue. He grabs his smoothie and continues, “But seriously, Bar, that stuff’s sugar pure. Your heart won’t like it.”

“It’s not like I drink it on a daily basis, plus I’ve deserved it.”, Bar answers. “Hm, I think I’ll just vague the two of you then.”

Snart just hums at them, reaching for his own coffee - black, of course, like his soul. “What do you mean you don’t have an instagram, pretty boy? Thought you’d be all over this stuff, flooding the world with your face.”

Involuntarily, Eddie breaks into a grin. He can’t help it, really. Sure, he’s gotten a lot of compliments in his life but considering his childhood it’s always a pleasant surprise. And even wrapped in what’s probably supposed to be an insult, Snart’s still calling him genuinely attractive. So yeah, he’s kinda happy about that. “What, you think I’d become an insta model?”

“Better that than a cop.” Snart shrugs a little. Judging by his voice, he’s actually serious.

Before Eddie can open his mouth to reply, Bar suddenly moves forward, clapping their hand onto Snart’s thigh. They don’t even look up from their phone but continue frowning at it, even as they ask, “Did you guys really never hang out before?”

“What, of course we did.”, Snart says in a huff. “Along with the bunch of other weirdos.”

“Without the other  _ weirdos _ .”, Bar says dryly, punching against his shoulder. The fact that they don’t even get so much as a growl in response tells a lot of their relationship in Eddie’s opinion ( _ God _ , Snart is so whipped. By Bar Allen of all people). “Like-- like this.”

“Well, there’s always the time Snart fucked up the Rathaways.”, Eddie points out.

“Right,” Snart says, slowly starting to smirk again. “Did they forget about that?”

“Nah, don’t think so.”, Barry says casually, like they’re trained to assure Snart of his awesomeness. Eddie bites back a snort. “Anyway, they’re wondering what you hanging out might look like.”

“Tell them I’m beating up pretty boy.”

“I know at least half these people would be upset with you fucking up my pretty face, though.”, Eddie shoots back.

Snart rolls his eyes. “Then I’m kicking your ass. Might literally do that if you continue.”

“And I thought you wanted to make me famous.”

“Stop pouting,” Bar chides him and reaches forward to cup his chin. “Though you probably  _ should _ get an account.”

Eddie makes a sound in rely that could be read as either dismissive or approving, probably, and takes another sip of his smoothie. If he compared how the people around him put their accounts to use, it actually seems pretty unlikely that he’d actually get one. He doesn’t need to promote anything like Oliver and Linda do, and if he were to share his private life like Cisco does he would probably be deemed as unprofessional before he even starts being a cop. Before he can even start bringing up either of the thoughts running through his head, though, he sees Snart swallow some pills with a swig of his coffee.

His— well, he’s not sure what exactly he feels at the sight, but his brows go up to meet his hairline anyways; maybe it’s surprise, maybe it’s concern, or something else but it’s definitely visible to Snart because he rolls his eyes. “Relax, those were actual prescribed meds.”

“I didn’t know you took any.”, Eddie says in a hollow voice. It probably shouldn’t surprise him, with what he’s learnt about Snart’s past and him having to see a therapist, but the fact’s still there.

“He keeps forgetting them.”, Bar says sternly. “Because he doesn’t put on an alarm or anything.”

“You don’t have one either.”, Snart replies. Something about this tells Eddie they have that conversation often.

“Yeah, because I take my meds after waking up. Hard to forget  _ that _ .”

“Well, mine are prescribed for noon, so that’s--”

Bar rolls their eyes as they singsong, “ _ That’s why you should put on an alaaaaarm _ .”

“You’re like an old married couple.” Eddie snickers. When he’s met with a deer-in-headlights-look (provided by Snart, surprisingly) and a sly grin, he adds, “No really. Lemme guess, you discuss this almost every day.”

“ _ No _ \--”

“We  _ wouldn’t _ have it if Len learnt to put on his alarm!”, Bar interrupts. “Eddie, tell him to put on his alarm.”

“Uh, I’d rather not.” Maybe his response is caused by the glare Snart sends him, but that doesn’t mean it’s not honest. Hell, who is he to tell Snart what to do? Plus, if Bar had been telling him exactly the same thing for God knows how long and he still doesn’t do it, what effect could he possibly have? 

Snart smirks at the words. “I feel pity for whatever station ends up with you.”

“I feel pity for Bar because they’re stuck with you.”

“Wow, that was  _ really  _ witty and hurting, pretty boy.”

Bar raises a hand. “I’d like to point out I chose to be stuck with him.”

“And it’s a shame!”, Eddie insists. “You deserve a tooth-rotting fluffy romance, darling.”

“Stop your bad flirting.”, Snart growls. In a swift motion he leans closer and rounds his arm around Bar’s shoulders. If it weren’t for his words, it would look almost casual; now, however, it seems like he’s trying to pull them away from Eddie.

“Aw,” Bar pouts, turning their head to him. “I love you.”

Eddie can’t see Snart’s reaction, but when he hears, “I know,” in response he almost feels like gagging. It’s not like he actually meant what he’s said before - the two of them  _ are _ a cute couple, Eddie can admit that even without imagining how the rest of the group would react if he didn’t. And it’s not like he’s actually crushing on Bar. It’s just too funny to rile Snart up with the little love declarations he makes sometimes, and Bar blushing about them is a bonus.

“Oh my God, please tell me you did not just quote Star Wars at each other.”, he bursts out. “Like, that was an accident, right? Not on purpose?”

They ignore him in favour of kissing, which is probably all the answer he needs. Fucking  _ nerds _ .


	12. Part 1 Chapter 5: ColdFlash First Date

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> remember when Bar and Snart first met and in the evening they went out for dinner? This is what went down. (prompted by Oddi_Miseinen, thank you for that!)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is set during [Chapter 5](https://archiveofourown.org/works/12083541/chapters/27474339). Bar still goes by their full name and two sets of pronouns at that time, so Snart alternates between them :)

Truth be told, Snart’s not just amused about Iris’ liveblogging of him showing up on her doorstep, he’s actually  _ glad _ for it. If she didn’t announce it now, then she surely would have done so as soon as he and Barry are out of the door - then he wouldn’t have the mind to look into the chat and make sure she didn’t talk shit. He’s be lying if he said he didn’t enjoy everyone’s reactions.

Naturally, Barry’s had been his favourite. Their  _ squealing _ when he had revealed himself as the energy drink guy, only for them to remember where they are and quiet down, with a bright blush in place and all. Snart had felt quite excited about that as well, he can admit to himself - it had been the perfect situation. And then, just chilling outside with him and talking… it had been nice.

He could tell that Barry didn’t fully believe he’d show up in the evening but that had been all the more reason to do it. Seeing them in their pajamas, totally confused and overwhelmed, had definitely been worth it.

As they come downstairs again now, interrupting the staring-and-texting fest that he and Iris have made of the moment, they’re wearing a casual jeans and sweater combination. Still, it looks good and Snart can’t hide a genuine smile at the fact they don’t feel like dressing up for him. That would have gotten awkward real quick.

“Hey, Bar,” Iris says slowly and even if he weren’t already looking at her, Snart could picture the teasing smirk on her face. She’s got one of the kind where after only a few minutes you can picture any emotion written into her features; he can’t imagine that would be too good for a therapist, but maybe she’s different in professional environments. 

Barry ducks his head immediately, avoiding her eyes. Instead, he just goes to open the front door, holding it upon without further comment.

Snart can’t help but laugh at that, though it didn’t need Iris punching his arm to make him stop. He’s no stranger to those little jabs, having a sister (and Mick) himself, but it’s good to know that even with all her teasing, Iris stands up for them. He gives her a mock salute just for that before walking out the door.

“You guys told the chat, didn’t you?”, Barry asks as they pull it closed. “I hope my reputation isn’t screwed too badly.”

Snart scoffs lightly. “What, the one as the adorable nerd? I think that one’ll be safe for a while.”

He only sees the grimace they do form the corner of his eyes as he leads the way down the path and towards the bike he’s come here with.

“I’m not getting on that thing,” Barry announces as soon as it’s more than clear that it is, in fact, the way of transportation Snart has meant for the two of them. “I didn’t even know you  _ had _ a bike!”

“It’s technically Mick’s,” Snart says with a light shrug. He takes one of the helmets off the handlebar and holds it out towards them. “I doubt he even realizes I took it.”

Barry looks… not terrified, exactly, but worried. There’s a certain amount of fear written in their eyes as they stare at the bike rather than Snart, biting their lip while doing so. It’s enough to keep him from making a joke on their expense - even if it looks kind of cute.

“Hey,” Snart starts again. He steps a bit closer, between them and the bike to gain their attention. It works and Barry’s eyes meet his. “Do you trust me?”

There’s a change in their expression at that and Snart’s not surprised at all - it should be worth a mental discussion whether to trust him or not. To his amazement, they do break into a smile in the end. “That depends,” they decide, “Was that Aladdin reference on purpose or not?”

It wasn’t, but if it makes him feel better, then Snart won’t barge in. Maybe it’s time to rewatch some Disney classics anyway. So he just tilts his head a little, smiling over at him and holds out his hand.

Barry hesitates for another moment, sucking in his lip as he eyes it carefully. Then, finally, he lets out a soft sigh and places his own in it. 

Snart can’t help but let out an appreciative chuckle; this promises to be interesting.

 

-

 

“Are you sure you’re okay?”, Snart asks softly, stepping closer to Barry. He contemplates reaching out and taking their hand, but would that even do anything? He’s certain it might just make the whole thing worse.

They’d wrapped their arms around him with way more face than necessary while they drove, even though Snart hadn’t even been speeding at all. It had become so strong that it had hurt  _ him _ , so he’s stopped the machine before they were even closer to the restaurant he’s picked. It’s been pretty obvious that despite agreeing to try it, Barry’s still been scared of the bike; and Snart may be an asshole, but he won’t torture the guy he’s taking out for dinner.

And even though stopping should have been a relief for Barry, he’s had to practically claw his hands from his body. He would have thought he’d jump off the machine as soon as possible, but it had almost seemed like he hadn’t even realized they’d stopped.

Snart’s only noticed their shaking when they’d gotten off the bike finally. It hadn’t been obvious while they were still pressed against him, but it’s  _ visible _ \- that’s how much they are trembling. The question about whether they were cold, Barry had waved off.

“I-- No, I’m fine.”, he shakes his head. “Well, as fine as I can be, probably.”

Snart frowns. “I shouldn’t have made you climb on that, should I?” He’s not an idiot, and he’s had his fair share of experience with all kinds of mental illnesses during his time in juvie. And this… well, it looks like something.

Again, Barry shakes their head, this time more vehemently. “You didn’t make me do it. And I-- I didn’t wanna be a coward.”

“Pretty sure you aren’t one,” Snart tells him. And he means it - he doesn’t know him that well, naturally, but while Barry may seem a little shy, it’s not like they back out of conversations just because. Besides, if there’s a measurement for cowardice, then it’s not connected to whether you climb on a motorbike, he can imagine. “So, what is it? Anxiety?”

“Yeah,” they breathe, “And PTSD. Some level of depression connected on it.” It’s not a big thing for them, apparently, because they shrug as they tell him. 

“Huh,” Snart makes. “Any way I can help? I didn’t mean to push you into an attack, you know.”

It makes them laugh, at least. Not wholeheartedly, but a chuckle - an honest one that simply doesn’t come out the right way. “No, it’s fine. I just need a moment. I thought it wouldn’t be-- that I just had jitters about going on it. You know, just like when you do something for the first time and then afterwards it’s been  _ great _ .”

“I get that,” Snart says. And he does, but still, he can’t help but feel a little guilty. He feels like he should’ve known, or at least not pressed as hard about using it to get to the restaurant. “Still, we didn’t have to--”

“I’m already better,” Barry cuts in, holding out a hand. The shaking has gotten less, yes. “And you didn’t know.”

“Well,  _ now _ I can plan in advance.”, Snart says seriously. He doesn’t miss the way their face grows red at that, almost as if they’d thought he could stop liking them now. That thought alone makes him say, “I know how it is-- PTSD. And some light form of bipolar and kleptomania.”

Barry’s eyes grow wide at that. “ _ Kleptomania _ ? Then you can’t be punished for stealing!”

“It’s a reason, not an excuse,” Snart chimes in. It wouldn’t help him to hear him say something like that - that thought could build a nest in his head, pushing him back into his teen years. Back then, he hadn’t understood the itch in his hands whenever he’d grown antsy, just thought it had been something normal for criminals. After all, it’s been the same for Mick with his fire. In juvie, he’s first learnt that they both weren’t as neurotypical as they’d have liked to be. He’s still struggling with it but within the years all his heists had been planned rather than spontaneously caused on a whim. “Shrink’s helping with that, anyway.”

“That’s good.”

They stay like this for a while longer, just standing on the pathway and looking either at each other or into the distance. Snart can practically feel Barry grow calmer, as if he’d been buzzing off anxiety before and it slowly ebbs away now. It’s a relief to him; though he still wishes he’d known before. 

In the end, he’s made himself look away, giving them the opportunity to calm down further without the gaze of prying eyes. It goes unspoken that they have the lead now, indicating when it’s okay to carry on - if Barry even wants to. 

It doesn’t take too long until they speak up.

“So, where are we going?”, Barry wants to know. He looks excited again, a bright smile in place. Almost giddy. It almost makes Snart smile for real as well.

For now, though, he settles with a smirk. “Well, I promised you a dinner, didn’t I?”

At that, there’s a small change in their face. The grin is still as wide as before, but suddenly it looks almost… embarrassed, if the faint blush on their cheeks is anything to go by. Snart doesn’t even have the time to open his mouth to ask about that when they already continue, “I still can’t believe it was you.”

“Funny coincidence, huh?”, Snart huffs. He can’t help the chuckle escaping his lips at that. He’s known, obviously, that he was bound to meet the people from the chat any time soon. If it’s really a proper club like Queen’s sounded like, then they’d meet up at some point. And it wouldn’t have surprised him to run into any of them before - Central City College isn’t the world. 

But he’s found a liking towards Barry right from the start; granted, it might just be the thrill. That he’s in a group with not only one, but two children of the cop who got him there in the first place, and the potential that he could start something with one of them is there is exciting. And not just on the level of revenge. He’s learnt to appreciate both of them quite soon. Iris with her sharp tongue and witty remarks, her boldness most of all, and Barry with his sweetness and honesty. In another life, he could find himself interested in both of them. Now, though it’s Barry who captivates him most, and that’s not just because he’s here right now. 

It’s quite difficult to pinpoint but there’s something about Barry that’s just…  _ refreshing _ . It hadn’t been as prominent just while chatting (though, naturally, Snart has enjoyed riling him up) but when they talked in real life earlier this day, it was  _ easy _ . And fun. He wasn’t as snappy as he was with Mick or Lisa but he didn’t feel like he was putting on a mask either. It’s like he’s actually capable of being nice when he’s with Barry.

“Wait,” Barry makes suddenly, catching his arm with his hand. Snart’s learnt quickly that he’s quite the action-guy, always moving even if it’s just to maintain contact. “ _ You _ didn’t know that was me, did you? Or did you think it’d be funny to coincidentally sit down right in front of me and--”

Snart snorts lightly. He really played into being the bad guy, didn’t he? “Barry,” he starts and closes his hand around Barry’s. They don’t push him off but stays there, almost reaffirming - though he couldn’t tell for whom of the two of them. “I’m not as much of a stalker as you all think.”

It’s almost comical how surprised they seem to be by that statement. “Oh. That’s… so it was really just a lucky happenstance, huh?”

“ _ Lucky _ , you think?”, Snart repeats.

Barry looks down shortly at that, but they don’t try to get out of that. Another sign that, despite their own belief, they’re not a coward. Instead, they’re painfully honest. “Yeah. I mean, I can’t say I wasn’t curious about you-- or that I didn’t wanna know what you look like.”

“Well, I remember what you thought.”, Snart says with a grin. It had been too funny to see how mortified Barry had been when he’d referred to his texts in the chat. He can see the start of the same expression slowly creep up on his face now, so he adds, “And  _ I _ think that maybe  _ you _ should be the one to include ‘pretty’ in their username.”

At first, he fears he might have overstepped a line. Barry finally pulls his hand back again and swats it against Snart’s arm, in the same place where it’s rested the second before. But then he’s grinning a little as he runs his hands through his hair, just above his ears. It’s nervous tic, he realizes. And then, with delight, that  _ he _ makes Barry nervous, and not even in a bad way.

“I was thinking Big Belly’s wouldn’t have too much style.”, Snart starts. Even if they look more than adorable, he can imagine Barry’d like it more if they didn’t have to feel as embarrassed. “It’s more depression food than anything.”

“Oh, come on, Big Belly’s fun.”, Barry says with a grimace. “You don’t have to impress me, you know.”

Snart huffs, though more out of surprise than anything else. Not at the statement itself, but rather that Barry  _ thinks _ he’s trying to impress them. And thinking about it, it almost feels like they’re  _ right _ . That’s a new one. “What’s there to impress? It’s not like my past’s a secret to you.”

“Oh yeah?” Now they lift their brows. “Pretty much the only thing I know is you stole something at a gala. … Besides what you told me earlier. And that you don’t like your parents. Other than that? Basic stuff. I’d say you’ve got plenty secrets.”

There’s one thing that’s definitely not a secret, though, and that’s his fable for dramatics. He lets out an exaggerated sigh of relief, grinning at Barry a little. “Well, then you can certainly try to unwrap them.”

“You do realize I won’t jump at your innuendoes, yes?”, Barry remarks, rolling his eyes a little.

Now, if he were talking to anyone but Snart, maybe the small stutter in his voice hadn’t been as apparent - especially not in comparison to the low-key panic attack he’d had when faced with the bike earlier. But well, he  _ is _ here with him, and if there’s anything that Snart can be proud of it’s his perceptiveness. He leans over to Barry, leaving only a few inches between there faces, and says in a low voice, “But they  _ do  _ have an effect on you.”

The way Barry ducks his head on reflex to hide his returning blush is enough of an answer.

“Are you sure you even feel ready for food?”, Snart asks then. He wouldn’t mind carrying on with the topic, especially not when he gets reactions like this, but that’s something to take care of now. He knows that anxiety can be horrible on your stomach - he’s already  _ caused _ them to have half an attack, he wouldn’t like to be responsible for following agony as well.

They sport a huge grin in return. “I can  _ always _ eat. But… I’d  _ really _ prefer Big Belly’s over whatever fancy thing you’ve chosen.”

Snart rolls his eyes. “It’s  _ not _ \-- you know, Big Belly’s quite a walk from here.” He sees how Barry opens their mouth to reply and continues, “ _ No _ , you’re not going full Bella Swan right now. We’ll postpone your next ride on that thing for now.”

“You’ve read Twilight?”

“It was the big thing when I was in juvie,” Snart shrugs. Maybe he  _ should _ feel embarrassed about that, but he’s sure enough of his masculinity. Besides, it has been a trash fire, it’s not like he  _ liked _ it. “Had to keep myself busy somehow.”

“Fair,” they nod. “So, then let’s take a walk, huh?”

When they hold out their hand, Snart can’t help but stare at it for a moment. He hadn’t expected them to put up a fight about any of this, not really, but he can’t say he’s used to such… sweetness either. Barry’s so sincere and soft - without caving in under his words - and he’s not sure how to deal with it. But he wants to know more about that, to figure it (and  _ him _ ) out. 

So he puts his hand into theirs, sliding their fingers together easily.


	13. Part 1 Chapter 39: Nyssara Christmas Eve

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> How Sara spent Christmas Eve 2017.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As promised, here's finally the Nyssara oneshot I should have written a year ago. I hope you enjoy this small thing!
> 
> I'll try my best to write the Linda/Patty one over the holidays, so we'll finally have wrapped up all of the chat members :)

If there’s one Christmas tradition that Sara has it’s  _ not _ having a Christmas tradition. For starters, Christmas is also her birthday, so there’s, like, something in that that makes her put  _ Christmas _ into second place among the priority list. So, usually she spends Christmas Eve in her bed watching some bad chick flick (and maybe it’s the current Christmas Chick Flick, she accepts what’s delivered, okay?) and eating Laurel’s entire advent calendar at once because God knows she never does it herself. Speaking of Laurel, she’s the one who claims that repeatedly  _ not _ doing any traditions is kind of a tradition after all. Go figure or something.

She supposes she could mix up things by scrolling through the group chat - knowing her friends, it will be even more active than usually - but somehow that would feel weird or something. Huh, maybe she  _ does _ have a tradition after all. Anyway, there’s no time for their shenanigans tonight when she’s been meaning to watch that supposedly so-bad-that-it’s-good-again Christmas royalty movie on Netflix. If she weren’t back in Star, she might have asked the girls to join her. Maybe Bar, too - that’d probably be right up their alley. Now, though, it’s her and cheap chocolate.

 

-

 

There’s a policy in this household, one that Sara has established during her teenage years. Generally, you may come in after knocking. On Christmas Eve, though, when she’s already bid her farewells and turned on the TV, then it’s one of humanity’s biggest sins to disturb her, ever. And it’s never even been connected to her sneaking out or anything; that’s nothing she’s ever done at Christmas. Only, like, the other 362 days of the year.

So when there’s a noise coming from outside her door right when the reporter gets inside of the palace, she groans. “ _ No _ !”

For a moment, there’s quiet, making Sara think that whoever’s there - it must be Laurel, Laurel is bolder than their dad when it comes to her - has left. Then, though, there’s a voice. “Well, I suppose I’ll fly back home then.”

Sara freezes. She’s not able to move for a few seconds, too shocked. The TV continues running but she doesn’t recognize the words anymore. “What the--” She’s up within the blink of an eye then, jumping over to the door.

And sure as hell, there she stands, with a sure smirk in place. Of course Nyssa would know that even a  _ hint _ of her presence would make Sara throw away all her plans for the evening. Even a skype call would’ve done that but now…  _ Nyssa is here _ .

“You’re here!”, Sara yells, grabbing her by the shoulders and drawing her in for a kiss. It barely hits her mouth, and the chuckle she can feel against her body sends a wave of excitement through it. “ _ How _ are you here?”

Nyssa looks way too good for someone who must have spent a whole day travelling, she thinks when they pull apart (slightly only, of course). Somehow, she  _ always _ looks good - it’s been a reason for many sleepless nights for Sara. The fun kind, of course. “Your friends Thomas and Oliver,” she says in a way of explaining. “They wish you a merry Christmas. And so do I.”

“ _ Tommy and Oliver _ ?”, Sara repeats. She can’t stop herself from gasping. Of course, most of the offensive things they do to one another are jokes but… Managing to get her girlfriend to her home? When she didn’t even think of gifting them, like, cheap wine or something? 

Nyssa nods. There’s a smile on her face and this time it’s not teasing. It’s honest and happy. “Yes. Say, shall we go inside your room?”

“Yeah, of course.” She can practically see her dad sitting on his armchair downstairs, grinning to himself as he listens in. He’s totally been in the loop, she’s sure. “I-- Sorry, my room’s a mess.” She’s not quite sure what to say, mostly because she just didn’t  _ expect _ to see Nyssa until March, so she refrains to… stiff conversation. 

“Nothing I’m not familiar with,” Nyssa assures her. Her eyes fall on the screen. “What were you watching?”

Sara shrugs. “Ah, just some random chick flick. I’ll turn it off--”

“No, it’s alright. I would love to join you, actually.”

“Really? I mean, you didn’t come here all the way to watch TV or anything.” Sara says, watching Nyssa sink down on the covers of her messy bed gracefully. She always does that, not even knowing how hot every single gesture she makes is because she’s so  _ contained _ and yet  _ smooth _ . Mick would appreciate those hints of a lifelong training in every movement, she’s sure. 

“No, but I did come here to spend time with you. And, frankly, after this journey  _ cuddling _ would seem like a pleasant way.”, Nyssa says easily. She pats the bed next to her, and Sara follows easily.

They’re turning away from the TV, but that’s alright, because in the next moment Nyssa’s fingers are placed along Sara’s jaw gently. “I’ve missed you,” she breathes against Sara’s lips. 

“Same,” Sara answers. Then she grimaces, noticing that she talked to her  _ girlfriend _ in  _ real life _ like she’d do in their  _ groupchat _ . God, it’s really time to step back from that for a while.

Nyssa may not realize the full reason for her expression, but it makes her laugh anyways. It’s still written into her features when Sara closes the distance between them again.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you celebrate, I hope you have a very merry Christmas!

**Author's Note:**

>  **Please leave a comment!**  
>  If you liked this, come check out my [tumblr](http://joanthangroff.tumblr.com) or talk to me on [twitter](http://twitter.com/Ll4MDUNBAR).


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